Chapter 11: If Fate Binds Us

Chapter 11: If Fate Binds Us

Ning Yao?

The Ancestor Xuan was momentarily stunned, eyes wide in disbelief.

Who exactly was this Ning Yao, to be worthy of a personal audience with the Old Ancestor?

A sudden spark of realization flashed through his mind. Slapping his forehead, Xuan’s face lit up with understanding. Cautiously, he ventured, “Old Ancestor, I once heard from Sword that among the younger disciples of Qingyun Sect, there is a female disciple named Ning Yao who was born with a sword body and possesses extraordinary talent in cultivation...”

“That’s her. Summon her to see me.”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

Xuan was the twentieth-generation Ancestor and, aside from Chen Ping’an himself, the most venerable and respected elder of Qingyun Sect. It seemed Ning Yao’s reputation was considerable within the sect, as even someone of Xuan’s stature had heard of her.

“Yes, Old Ancestor.”

Xuan responded promptly and vanished in an instant.

“Could she be the suspected former girlfriend? Could it really be Ning Yao?” Chen Ping’an murmured with a smile, a flicker of hope brightening his eyes as he turned back to his room.

At Saintess Peak:

Qin Jian, who had been cultivating quietly in an ancient shop, suddenly opened her eyes and strode out swiftly.

“Sword greets the Ancestor Xuan,” she bowed respectfully.

Xuan, hands folded behind his back, smiled gently. “Jian, the Old Ancestor wishes to see Ning Yao. Bring her here.”

“See Ning Yao?” Qin Jian was momentarily stunned. What qualification did a twenty-fifth generation disciple of Qingyun Sect have to meet the Old Ancestor?

A pang of jealousy quietly surfaced in her heart.

As a twenty-second generation Ancestor herself, she was not even entitled to meet the Old Ancestor.

“Do not delay. Go.”

Xuan nodded with a smile.

Fearing to neglect the order, Qin Jian agreed and vanished riding a sword light.

Xuan’s gaze grew mysterious; his expression darkened. He murmured, “The Old Ancestor has just reached the initial stage of the Golden Body Realm. Could he be seeking someone to test the demon-subduing Vajra Mace he’s treasured for ten thousand years?”

“Cough, cough...”

Thinking that imagining the Old Ancestor’s schemes was a grave disrespect, Xuan hastily cleared his throat, banishing the unsavory thoughts from his mind.

At Little Bamboo Peak, inside a bamboo house, sword light shimmered as Qin Jian slowly appeared before Ning Yao.

“Sword greets the Sword Ancestor,” Ning Yao bowed with utmost respect.

Qin Jian, feeling a lump in her throat, moved her lips several times before speaking, “Ning Yao, come with me.”

“Yes.”

Ning Yao dared not ask questions and followed Qin Jian out of the bamboo house.

After several breaths,

The two passed through two layers of formation light barriers and descended into a lush green valley.

Ning Yao felt uneasy, unclear about the Sword Ancestor’s intentions in bringing her here.

She had never been to this valley before. Within it stood a modest, ancient stone cottage, where a man of unfathomable aura awaited at the door.

“Sword Ancestor...”

Ning Yao hesitated.

“There is an Old Ancestor of Qingyun Sect who wishes to see you,” Qin Jian said after a pause.

Because of Xuan’s decree, the title “Old Ancestor” was reserved only for elders of their generation; others were addressed simply as Ancestor.

Old Ancestor?

A dreadful possibility flashed through Ning Yao’s mind, her face paling instantly.

Had that lecherous old pervert, after failing to take concubines, now set his covetous claws on the younger generation of Qingyun Sect?

Even targeting the descendants of their own sect—what kind of Ancestor was this?

Seeing Ning Yao’s pale face and wavering figure, Qin Jian wished she could stab her a few times.

The Old Ancestor was the most handsome man under heaven; when he favored a woman, it meant a lifetime of happiness for her.

She envied Ning Yao’s opportunity.

Xuan opened his eyes, two beams of divine light shooting forth. He said softly, “Ning Yao, enter. The Old Ancestor has questions for you.”

“Understood.”

Ning Yao nodded, her heart heavy as she lowered her head and took slow, weighty steps into the stone house.

Qin Jian stood by Xuan’s side.

“This girl is spoiled and stubborn. I worry she might offend the Old Ancestor,” Qin Jian said with a bitter smile.

“If she offends the Old Ancestor, then she’ll be locked in the dungeon,” Xuan said expressionlessly.

There were many prodigious disciples in Qingyun Sect, but only one Old Ancestor. He was clear about what mattered most.

Seeing Xuan’s stern impartiality, Qin Jian was startled. After all, she was somewhat a mentor to Ning Yao and did not wish to see such a talented swordswoman fall so suddenly.

Inside the house, Ning Yao, restless and uneasy, heard a gentle voice.

“Close the door.”

Lowering her head, she slowly turned and shut the door.

“Come here.”

The voice was soft again.

Ning Yao continued to keep her head bowed, stepping forward slowly.

She knew this was a highly esteemed Old Ancestor of Qingyun Sect, someone with status even higher than the Sword Ancestor.

Ning Yao approached the table.

On the rustic wooden desk sat a teapot, two cups, a sheet of white paper, and a brush. Wisps of smoke curled from the charcoal fire still heating water.

“Sit.”

Seeing the cold beauty keep her head down in apparent fear of him, Chen Ping’an smiled warmly and gently tapped the table.

“I dare not,” Ning Yao trembled and stepped back hastily.

She was merely a disciple of Qingyun Sect—what right had she to sit on equal footing with an Old Ancestor whose status exceeded even the Sword Ancestor?

Though her nature was cold and aloof, proud and haughty, she still knew her limits.

“It’s no trouble. You need not be so reserved here,” Chen Ping’an said with a smile.

Though he had lived over ten thousand years, at heart he remained a youth, lacking the gravitas of someone like Xuan.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ning Yao slowly sat down.

At first, she had been tense, suspecting this lecherous Old Ancestor would impose upon her. But now she realized her mistake—the Old Ancestor was kind and proper in demeanor.

This was entirely different from the pervert she had imagined.

The kettle whistled, steam billowing more fiercely.

“The water’s boiled.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, lifted the kettle, poured water into the teapot, and covered it to steep.

“Ning Yao, how old are you this year?”

“Twenty,” Ning Yao answered softly, unease creeping back into her heart.

By a woman’s instinct, she sensed the Old Ancestor was about to make a move on her.

A man capable of taking hundreds of concubines—could you believe he wouldn’t spike the tea?

Whether others believed it or not, Ning Yao certainly did not.

Chen Ping’an sipped the tea lightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes.

His supernatural beauty had yet to sway any woman, but Ning Yao kept her gaze fixed downward, never once looking up. This made Chen Ping’an wonder if she had recently taken some rare blood elixir and broken out in pimples.

“Look up. Look at me.”

His voice suddenly turned commanding, the atmosphere heavy.

Faced with the Old Ancestor’s authority, Ning Yao had no choice but to raise her eyes.

“So handsome!”

Seeing his peerless features up close for the second time, Ning Yao was deeply moved.

The last time, the distance had been great, lessening the impact; but now, standing less than two meters apart, the effect was overwhelming.

Ning Yao was a woman, after all, and naturally shared their common weakness—so seeing such a strikingly handsome man, her heart faltered.

Chen Ping’an studied Ning Yao closely.

He examined her from head to toe, not missing a single strand of hair. Yet the more he looked, the more puzzled he became, for Ning Yao felt both familiar and strange to him.

A sensation both new and alien.

“This is impossible to judge...” Chen Ping’an groaned, his gaze landing on the brush on the table. He picked it up and wrote two characters on the paper.

“Yes” and “No.”

Setting down the brush, he instructed, “Ning Yao, come help me. Hold the brush.”

At the mention of helping, Ning Yao extended her delicate hand and grasped the brush.

Suddenly, Chen Ping’an also grasped the top end of the brush and said, “Don’t move it randomly. Follow my lead.”

Confused by the Old Ancestor’s strange behavior, Ning Yao was at a loss but obediently cooperated.

Chen Ping’an controlled the brush, lightly drawing circles in the air above the paper, chanting softly.

“Brush...”

He spoke the word, then his expression turned serious as he commanded, “Ning Yao, repeat after me.”

“Ah...”

Ning Yao’s mind teetered on the edge of confusion. What was the Old Ancestor up to, all secretive like this?

But when the Old Ancestor began, she could only follow obediently.

“Brush spirit, oh brush spirit, you are my past life, I am your present life, if fate binds us, please draw a circle upon the paper...”

(End of Chapter)