Yue Hongling’s choice of words, saying that she saw him rather than an illusion, was deliberate. She could tell the difference, because what she saw that day was unmistakably Zhao Changhe.0

It was the Zhao Changhe in her heart.0

Before her was an ice wall, polished and reflective like a mirror. But instead of her own reflection, it showed an image of Zhao Changhe galloping through the golden sands, pursued by thousands of soldiers.0

Yue Hongling knew that was the moment her heart truly stirred for him, when genuine love had first bloomed. Not during the earlier, unexpected intimacy in the Maitreya Temple, nor in the tender embrace at the inn after Sisi’s mischief.0

Such fleeting moments could be forgotten like a dream, fading without a trace. But the memory of riding through the desert with him was eternal, etched into her soul. It was a memory she would often recall, never to be forgotten.0

Yet for a martial artist pursuing the pinnacle of her path, for a solitary swordswoman accustomed to walking alone, such sweet memories carried a dangerous name:0

Inner demon.0

It weakened one’s resolve, ensnaring one in the allure of tenderness. The heart loses its resolve, the sword its sharpness. The struggle for independence and the...0