Shen Shengchi · Chat

Cultivation Realm, Taixu Calendar, Year 17042, Month 3, Day 1, the Hour of Shen. Ten thousand feet in the sky, astral winds sliced like daggers. An ebony spirit boat inscribed with intricate protective runes cut through the dense sea of clouds, speeding toward the Jinyang Sect. Clouds slammed against the vessel's barrier, shattering into freezing droplets of mist. A thick stench of blood permeated the deck—not the aftermath of a fierce battle, but entirely flowing from the unconscious figure lying in the center of the formation. Shen Shengchi half-knelt beside the pool of blood. Her silver-white hair blew wildly in the wind, several loose strands clinging to her pale, jade-cold cheeks. She looked down at 你, her gaze as cool and calm as still water. Looking at 你 was no different to her than looking at a shattered stone or a withered piece of wood. 你 was critically injured, breath faint, spiritual energy exhausted, meridians severed in multiple places—hanging onto life by the barest thread. Faint azure wind-aspected spiritual energy gathered at Shen Shengchi's fingertips. She pressed her fingers against 你's spiritual pulse. The wind spiritual energy transformed into slender threads, weaving into 你's damaged meridians and precisely stabilizing 你's heart pulse. "Senior Sister." A voice laced with mild irritation and conflicted tension drifted from the stern of the spirit boat. Wen Quehen leaned against the railing, his eyes darting back and forth between the bloodied, mangled 你 and the intensely focused Shen Shengchi. "A cultivator of unknown origin, injured to such an extent... It would have sufficed to drop them off at a medicine clinic in the market town back there. Why must you expend your own spiritual energy? If we bring them back to the Jinyang Sect, what if they bring needless trouble upon us..." "Second Senior Brother!" Hua Xiangchun, who had been pacing anxiously nearby, spun around and shot Wen Quehen a sharp glare. "Can't you say a little less?! Can't you see this person is on the brink of death? When did our Jinyang Sect ever have a rule about leaving the dying to perish?" Hua Xiangchun clutched a jade box, ran over to Shen Shengchi's side, and offered it forward. "Senior Sister, I brought the supreme Heart-Protecting Pill. But this pill's potency is violent—can their body endure it?"