My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 74 - 59: How Tragic Is It?

The overwhelming Sword Gang slashed through the sky, turning into a rain of blood. The vicious flood dragon, before it could fully manifest the fragmented dharma body of the Dragon King, was severed in two from head to tail. The White-clothed Swordsman, ambushing with lethal intent, abruptly retracted his force, narrowly dodging this sword. The Sword Gang pierced through the entire northern river outside the capital.

In the river, fish swam chaotically in all directions. Yet those struck by the Sword Gang remained unharmed, a testament to the purity of the Living Sword’s principles.

But Chen Yi felt as if he had narrowly been cleaved in two by that sword.

When the Fourth Rank Swordsman charged at him, in that fleeting moment, all his thoughts were extinguished. Everything before his eyes slowed to a crawl, and he suddenly felt as though he were tumbling through a fleeting montage of life.

At that time, everything fell silent. There was no sound—neither from the false Door God, the shrimp soldiers and crab generals, the White-clothed Swordsman, nor the vicious flood dragon. They all lost their voices, their outlines blurred. It seemed as though only he, and this torrential rain, existed in the entire world.

What a boundless, unrelenting rain it was—falling silently, without pause. How many lives had perished in this rain? How much blood had flowed? And yet, it remained silent. As he turned back in astonishment, dazed, he realized that he’d never before noticed such a silent rain.

Chen Yi gasped for breath, shaking himself back to reality, only to find the wooden boat split in two. He stood on one half, while the Short Door God, at some point, had been thrown into the water by shrimp soldiers and drowned.

Seeing this scene, Chen Yi felt as though some part of himself had been cleaved away—suddenly gone. Having walked so close to death’s door, some things no longer seemed so important. Yet, at that moment, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what those things were.

Dragging himself slowly ashore from the river, Chen Yi—soaking wet—pressed a hand to his head. He glanced down at his tattered robes, and for a moment, lacked even the will to change them. Suddenly, as he pondered, he realized that he no longer harbored a desire for fame or fortune.

"What... is happening to me?"

Chen Yi rubbed his temples.

Though he had never been particularly invested in fame or fortune to begin with, always considering them mere tools of convenience, this sudden disinterest felt inexplicably profound.

"Did I... accidentally sever my upper corpse while skirting the gates of hell?"

It was often said that those who brushed death would gain newfound clarity. Chen Yi had never imagined that such a thing could happen to him.

Turning his head, he casually glanced at his stat panel, and was immediately startled.

There it was on his panel—an additional fifty years of True Qi, clearly converted from his kills of Huang Liuqing and the High Door God.

Yet, the Resentment Yin-Yang Technique only converted True Qi when triggered. When exactly... had he activated the Yin-Yang Technique?

Chen Yi thought long and hard but could not figure it out.

"Though I can’t piece it together, I now have two hundred years of True Qi. Not only is it enough to elevate Yin Yang Technique, but there’s an extra fifty years left over."

After some deliberation, Chen Yi allocated the extra fifty years of True Qi.

Twenty years went to the Bai Liu Blade, twenty years for Yin Weiyin’s Violet Elixir Manual, and the remaining ten were saved for future use.

As the river gradually calmed, Chen Yi saw the massive flood dragon’s corpse being pushed ashore by the water. The dazzling golden Li Pearl slowly rose, and a distant, one-armed figure stepping lightly across the air claimed it with a single hand.

Chen Yi thought of something, fumbling in his garments until he pulled out a lantern. He hurried to light it and, based on his memory of the landing area, walked toward where the one-armed woman descended.

Not long after, the one-armed woman gently landed on the shore. Chen Yi emerged at the right moment, cupped his hands in salute, and said:

"Many thanks... to Master Zhou for your assistance."

Under the faint lantern light, Chen Yi once more glimpsed her eyes—clear, piercingly so, like the stinging chill of early spring. Chen Yi stared, momentarily lost, and seeing her, he couldn’t help but think back to that rainy night, and the mountains full of peony blossoms.

The one-armed woman ignored him, gripping the Li Pearl in her hand. She walked past him without so much as a glance.

Chen Yi turned and repeated himself:

"Many thanks to Master Zhou for your assistance."

At the second remark, Zhou Yitang finally replied, her tone calm:

"It was just a passing effort."

"A life-saving kindness is a debt I can never repay," Chen Yi offered quickly.

She remained as aloof as ever, her words as biting as the sound of winter earth cracking beneath frost. Once, in another life, he had broken her sword and forced her into a marriage vow. She had sworn he would meet a wretched end. Yet, now that he saw her again, he felt an inexplicable sense of release—simply because the past was the past; she was still herself.

It was best to pretend not to recognize her now, to act as though this were their first meeting.

His thoughts bubbled up and sank just as quickly. Then, he called out to her:

"Master Zhou... please, wait a moment."

Zhou Yitang turned her gaze sideways toward him.

"There’s an old saying: ’A drop of water shall be repaid with a gushing spring.’ Now that you’ve saved me, Master, let me offer my name. Should you ever need..."

Before Chen Yi could finish, Zhou Yitang cut him off:

"Just get to the point."

Chen Yi chuckled awkwardly, then said, "West Factory Thousand Household, Chen Yi, style name Zunming."

Zhou Yitang turned and walked away without a reply.

Just as Chen Yi was about to watch her vanish from sight, she unexpectedly tossed a comment over her shoulder:

"Your name doesn’t sound very good."

Chen Yi froze for a moment, slightly baffled, but he didn’t dwell on it.

After all, this was their first meeting. She didn’t recognize him.

The night grew darker, and before he realized it, the one-armed woman had drifted far from his view.

Zhou Yitang stopped briefly, her eyes softening as she muttered to herself,

"He truly has grown thinner."

She hadn’t restrained herself earlier, that single phrase slipping out unintentionally.

But it shouldn’t matter. After all, this was their first encounter.

"It’s fine; he won’t recognize me."

Speaking softly to herself, Zhou Yitang glanced at the Li Pearl in her hand.

She had no use for it. One day, she’d leave it for him.

............

The Prince Mansion’s deadly ambush was defused. Three Fifth-grade experts were dead. This time, the Prince Mansion had suffered severe losses, and should remain dormant for a while.

Back home, Chen Yi stripped off his tattered, bloodied robes. After washing up—scrubbing himself two or three times—he threw on light clothes and walked into the main hall. There, he found Yin Tingxue had already prepared tea, her hands neatly folded on her knees, patiently waiting.

Chen Yi took in the sight quietly.

That night, he hadn’t given her an answer—leaving things ambiguous and vague.

The following day, after finishing his work at the West Factory and returning home, he found that Yin Tingxue had become noticeably more attentive. Not only had she prepared tea for him early, but she had even offered to wash his feet.

Her demeanor made Chen Yi wonder if the tea was poisoned.

Yet, the tea held no poison.

From that night onwards, she prepared tea for him almost every day.

Now, Yin Tingxue stepped forward and softly asked,

"Shall... shall I wash your feet for you?"

Chen Yi raised a brow and replied, "No need." Then he sat down, took a sip of the tea she’d prepared, and noted that she hadn’t touched the travel passes, servant contracts, or the silver makeup knife he’d deliberately left out over the past several days.

Yin Tingxue seemed tense, her gaze never leaving him as he drank his tea.

"You’ve been quite obedient these days," he remarked.

He called her obedient. Her face flushed as she softly responded with a gentle, "Mhm."

Chen Yi reached out and pulled her into his arms. Her petite frame fit perfectly, her head barely reaching his chest when he stood.

"The travel pass is right there on the table, along with some broken silver. Why didn’t you run?"

Chen Yi smiled.

"Weren’t you great at running away before?"

Yin Tingxue shook her head, her lips trembling as she whispered, "I won’t run."

"Then if I tell you I want to sleep with you, will you run?"

Chen Yi asked directly, letting go of her in a casual manner, as if giving her the freedom to escape.

Yin Tingxue dared not refuse, nor did she dare lie, fearing that Chen Yi would catch her in a falsehood. Her lips opened and closed before she timidly replied, "I... don’t know."

"I’ve made myself clear. You should prepare yourself—whether to escape or to kill me, it’s up to you. Either way, you’re leaving for marriage soon."

She looked on the verge of tears, taking a few steps back. Just when Chen Yi thought she was about to retreat, she hesitated, then cautiously moved closer, pressing herself meekly against him.

Chen Yi held her for a while before speaking again:

"Only now you become so diligent? It seems you haven’t been a very good concubine in the past."

"I’ll be better in the future. Is that okay? I’ll make you tea every day, do your laundry, prepare your baths, and even read to you..." Yin Tingxue murmured softly.

"That’s all?"

"That’s all I know how to do... I’ll learn more in the future."

Chen Yi placed a hand on her head, his voice cold: "It’s too late."

Yin Tingxue shuddered, instinctively pulling back a little. But after stepping back a few paces, she gathered her courage and leaned against him once more.

"You’re the Demon Sect Saintess, and I’m a court official. To have you warm my bed—wouldn’t that be considered righteous?"

"I... I’m not the Demon Sect Saintess anymore. Didn’t you say the Demon Sect Saintess was already dead?"

At her words, Chen Yi changed his reasoning: "The Prince Mansion was colluding with the Demon Sect, and you were chosen as the Saintess. If not for me, you would’ve been taken to the Demon Sect, where, in time, you’d surely become cruel and merciless, committing atrocities."

Listening to such baseless, shameless claims, Yin Tingxue paled, her expression filled with fright. Meanwhile, Chen Yi’s hand began to trace the edge of her garments, making her tremble even harder.

She quickly stammered, "My... my mother—my concubine mother—once said that close proximity to virtue leads to virtue, and closeness to wickedness leads to corruption. People... people are shaped by their environment. If I were in the Demon Sect, I might kill without blinking—but I’m not in the Demon Sect, so I won’t be cruel. I’ll live as a good person."

Chen Yi paused his hand and, smiling, looked at her with mockery: "Oh?"

Yin Tingxue pleaded pitifully, "Please let me go. I... I’ll serve you well. You can treat me as just an ordinary maid. In a year or two, once I’ve come to terms with things—even if you wish to dismiss me—I’ll still willingly climb into your bed... Will that do?"

"Aren’t we already sharing the same bed now?" Chen Yi teased.

"That’s not what I meant..."

The Princess blushed deeply. Hearing Chen Yi’s tone soften somewhat, she continued, attempting to bargain: "If you take me now, I won’t be willing. That won’t be enjoyable for either of us, right?"

"Then the hairpin I bought for you would go to waste?" ƒгeewebnovёl.com

"No... I’ll wear it in the future..."

One excuse after another, each smoothly deflected. Chen Yi, momentarily outmaneuvered, responded with an iron tone: "You are my concubine."

"..." Yin Tingxue found herself at a loss for words, tears brimming in her almond-shaped eyes.

She turned her head slightly, biting her lip, then leaned even closer, as though surrendering entirely. Chen Yi could feel her trembling, her anxiety beating like a drum. Her fragile frame nestled against him, she rested her chin on his shoulder, her voice tinged with despair:

"If you truly take me now, wouldn’t that be tragic?"

Chen Yi found her plight increasingly pitiable. Out of nowhere, he murmured:

"So even Yintai Temple would feel tragically mournful, hmm?"

Then he asked, "What would be so tragic?"

"Utterly tragic."

Yin Tingxue thought for a moment and softly replied:

"Like petals scattering in an instant."

Chen Yi tenderly kissed her forehead.

Yin Tingxue assumed this was a sign of agreement, that some unspoken accord had been reached. She began leaning in to kiss him back.

However, just after kissing her, Chen Yi cruelly said:

"A few days from now, your petals will wither and scatter regardless."

Yin Tingxue turned deathly pale, as white as a blade.

Chen Yi toyed idly with her hair.

What? Was even her sorrow meant to belong to him?