Cen Ji's gaze passed over Wen Moyin's shoulder and looked towards the distant horizon. He knew that in that direction there was a mountain called Yumu Valley, and he also knew that there was a wine called Xuepei Lu in the mountain. If he rode at full speed, he could reach it in less than a day.
It's really not far. But he can't get there.
He suddenly remembered his conversation with Rong Fu.
"Have ten years worn away your regrets?"
"How long will it take? A lifetime?"
"I'm afraid even a lifetime isn't enough. You'll eventually be buried with regrets."
“I said, such a life is not as good as dying in that great battle ten years ago.”
That kind of life...
Cen Ji withdrew his gaze and noticed that Wen Moyin's eyes had reddened at some point, but she was still trying to keep them wide open, staring intently at Cen Ji's face.
"If I were to die today, you should pretend you never married me." Cen Ji looked up, her long, dark hair fluttering gently in the wind. "But if I am lucky enough to survive, I want to choose my own path again."
Wen Moyin was suddenly stunned.
Seeing the struggle between her brows, Cen Ji suddenly smiled. That smile was like a beam of light piercing through the thick fog, radiating a dazzling paleness.
"Don't make things difficult for me. This is my own choice, it has nothing to do with you." After saying this, he swallowed the faint metallic taste in his throat, walked past Wen Moyin, and headed east.
Cen Ji walked very slowly. He was a little dizzy, and his breathing aggravated the wound under his ribs, causing waves of pain that forced him to slow his breathing.
The Iron Sword Sect disciples on the east side changed their expressions immediately upon seeing Cen Ji walking towards them step by step, all looking wary.
A group of dragons cannot be without a leader. After the death of Master Qi, Shen Congrong, the eldest member of the Iron Sword Sect, naturally became the new master.
Although Shen Congrong's name means "calm and composed," his hand gripping the longsword trembled involuntarily when facing Cen Ji, who was coming towards him. In comparison, Cen Ji was much more composed than him.
Reaching Shen Congrong, Cen Ji stopped, clasped his hands, and said in a deep voice, "Sect Leader Shen, although your sect's deceased sect leader was not killed by me, he was still murdered because of me. Moreover, I do owe your sect many lives, and I should repay this debt in blood."
Shen Congrong barely suppressed the fear in her heart and shouted, "What do you intend to do!"
Cen Ji said, "One strike, one life. I only ask that you all avoid vital points when you strike, because the last strike should be reserved for the one who deserves to be spared." As he spoke, Cen Ji seemed to unconsciously look behind him, his gaze lingering on the pale yellow figure for only a blink before moving away.
As he spoke, Cen Ji had to secretly adjust his internal energy, as he could feel his wounds silently draining his life force.
For a moment, none of the Iron Sword Sect members stepped forward. They all looked hesitant and indecisive. They wanted to jump out and kill Cen Ji with a single sword strike, but they were also afraid that Cen Ji would change his mind. They were also terrified of Hua Ying in his hand.
Shen Congrong glanced at his disciples and couldn't help but feel angry. He thought to himself that if they continued to back down like this, the Iron Sword Sect would probably never be able to hold its head high in the martial world again. Moreover, Cen Ji had openly betrayed Kongshan Ridge and lost his backer. Now that he was courting death, how could he be let off so easily?
Thinking of this, Shen Congrong stepped forward with his sword drawn. "Every wrong has its perpetrator, and every debt its debtor. You have delivered yourself to our doorstep today. All the martial arts practitioners present have witnessed this. Don't blame the Iron Sword Sect for showing no mercy!"
The longsword was drawn, a dragon's roar mixed with a cool breeze, and it flashed through Cen Ji's shoulder blade like lightning. The sword light was like a white horse flying away, and it vanished in an instant.
Cen Ji swayed backward as Shen Congrong's sword strikes.
"Sect Leader Shen is overthinking it," Cen Ji said calmly, raising his eyes.
Shen Congrong narrowed his eyes, then abruptly pulled his hand back, spraying blood all over his hand. The scalding blood almost made him drop his sword.
"I'll do it!" A still-childish voice rang out, and a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy drew his sword and leaped forward, shouting angrily, "This sword is for my second senior brother!"
The long sword pierced through his arm, leaving bloodstains on most of the blade.
The boy's gaze was cold and fearless. As soon as he drew his sword, a flash of light appeared from the side, piercing Cen Ji's right chest in the blink of an eye. Blood seeped out along the cut of the blade, and the slight chill in his chest almost froze Cen Ji's soul.
Cen Ji raised his head and glanced at the person who had drawn his sword. The desolate look in his eyes startled the young man holding the sword, who stood frozen in place, forgetting to draw his sword.
“You forgot to draw your sword.” Cen Ji slowly reached out, grasped the sword, and with a burst of internal energy, drew the longsword.
With a clang, the young man's grip on the sword loosened, and the longsword fell to the ground. Startled by the sound, the young man hurriedly bent down, picked up the sword, and retreated.
Cen Ji remained standing in the same spot, blood spreading like an ever-growing flame, seeping continuously from the wound, soaking large patches of his clothes, and the air filled with a faint smell of blood.
The light in Cen Ji's eyes grew dimmer and dimmer. He knew that his life was being mixed with blood, slowly falling at his feet. He could even hear the sound of the mountain wind passing through his body, perhaps the echo of his soul within him. In any case, he found that his grip on Hua Ying's hand was gradually weakening.
He lowered his eyes, feeling a wave of weariness wash over him, and was about to close them when he suddenly heard a crisp, clear sound. He looked up sharply, only to be met with a dazzling white light.
This was the first time Cen Ji had met Wei Li.
Sunlight shone on Wei Li's long, flowing hair, giving it a soft, silvery-white glow.
"A sneak attack?" Wei Li's voice came from the front. Cen Ji was slightly taken aback, then looked to the side.
There was a broken sword blade on the ground. A disciple of the Iron Sword Sect was holding the hilt of the broken sword and retreating in a panic.
“How dare you, a coward, take his life?” Wei Li said coldly.
It turned out that the Iron Sword Sect member took advantage of Cen Ji's momentary daze and thrust his sword towards Cen Ji's heart, intending to end his life. However, at the moment the sword was thrust out, it was struck by a pebble that Wei Li had launched out of the air.
Wei Li turned to look at Cen Ji, her robes fluttering, like a banished immortal.
This was indeed the first time Cen Ji had met Wei Li. But he suddenly spoke, "Master?"
Wei Li was taken aback, then said helplessly, "You still guessed it."
Cen Ji said, "It's not a guess, it's an admission."
Wei Li asked in confusion, "What do you mean?"
Cen Ji said, "Hair. It fell out." After saying those few words, he didn't want to speak anymore. He felt that with each additional word he uttered, he would lose a bit of strength.
In fact, after Cen Ji found the bluish-gray hair in the stone chamber, he casually held it in his hand and quietly put it away while talking to Rong Fu. When he took it out again the next day, he realized that the hair was actually silver-white, but it appeared dull and lacked its original color in the dim light of the previous night.
Apart from Cen Ji and Wei Li, everyone present was completely confused. However, many people had already vaguely guessed Wei Li's identity, their expressions a mixture of surprise and doubt.