80: The sword fell into the dust and the blood is still wet, I am alone like a shadow in the clouds!

His tone had no fluctuation, as if he was stating a simple fact.

"As for you..."

Lu Jiuyuan's gaze refocused on Ye Xue, that indifferent look making Ye Xue feel as if she had fallen into an ice cellar, all her anger seemingly frozen by this extreme cold.

"The one chance I gave you was used up the moment you left the iron chain cliff."

"The transaction is settled, we owe each other nothing."

He shook his wrist, and Guhong Sword emitted a low hum, the remaining water droplets and the last imperceptible trace of blood on the blade shaking off.

Then, he made a movement that made Ye Xue's heart suddenly constrict—he slowly raised his left hand and reached into his embrace.

Ye Xue's gaze involuntarily followed that hand.

She knew about the handkerchief in his embrace; she knew it was for his elegant yet cold wiping motion after every kill.

That seemed to be his ritual of declaring an end.

Lu Jiuyuan's hand fumbled in his embrace, his fingertips touching a silk handkerchief with a delicate feel, embroidered with the Imperial Guards' Nine-Character Needle-Sword emblem.

His movement paused slightly, and the next moment, his hand withdrew.

Between his fingers was a most ordinary, even somewhat coarse, white cotton handkerchief.

Gently wiping the blade, elegance is timeless!

Ye Xue stared blankly at this scene, the grief, accusation, and hatred on her face cracking and peeling away like ice shattered by a heavy hammer, leaving only a bone-chilling, hollow coldness.

The strength in her body seemed to be instantly drained, her legs went soft, and she stumbled back a step, almost falling into the mud beside her sister.

So... that's how it is.

She finally understood.

What "clean," "worth a thousand gold," what "giving one chance"... were all just a trivial "tolerance" bestowed by this cold swordsman based on some lofty principle she couldn't comprehend.

This tolerance was as fragile as morning dew, evaporating completely with a single ray of sunlight.

Her self-perceived specialness, her secret thoughts and hopes, in his eyes, were probably no different in essence from Liu Qingqing's blatant seduction or Ye Ling's childish sneak attack.

They were all dust that could be flicked away or cut down with a sword.

She never truly had a place in his heart.

The so-called transaction was truly a transaction, and the so-called chance, from beginning to end, was just her own unrequited affection.

"Heh... heh heh..."

Ye Xue laughed softly, her laughter hoarse and desolate, mingling with the rustling rain, making one's heart palpitate.

"So that's how it is!"

The rain grew colder.

Ye Xue's low, broken laughter drifted in the rain, like paper ashes scattered by the wind.

She gently laid down her sister's body, still warm but lifeless, in her arms, her movements as tender as if setting down fragile Colored Glaze.

Then, she stood up and pressed her hand to her sword!

The rain washed over her pale face, washing away tears, and also washing away the last trace of hesitation and disguise.

She looked at Lu Jiuyuan, at this man she had once tried to approach, tried to understand, tried to control.

His figure was still tall and solitary, like a sharp sword standing in the rain, unmoved by any external forces, including her hatred, her resentment, her despair.

The transaction is settled, we owe each other nothing.

The chance is used up, the dust has settled.

She understood.

From the very beginning, she was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

He was not Ximen Chuixue, and she was not Sun Xiuqing.

Love, to him, was something more illusory than this sky full of rain.

Her approach, her calculations, her so-called "restraint," in his eyes, were nothing but laughable struggles like a moth flying into a flame.

Now, the fire should be extinguished! Extinguished with blood.

There was no roar, no questioning. Ye Xue just slowly raised her hand.

Her movements were very slow.

Rainwater flowed down her slender wrist, soaking her wide sleeves.

Lu Jiuyuan still watched her quietly, his sword-holding hand as steady as a rock.

He saw the dead light in her eyes, and he also saw the surging, finally erupting killing intent beneath that gaze.

He did not urge her, nor did his defensive posture change, as if he was just waiting for an inevitable outcome.

"Zheng—!"

A sharp, metallic friction sound, as if it could pierce eardrums, suddenly rang out!

From within Ye Xue's wide red sleeve, a cold light, like a long-dormant Dragon, instantly broke through the sleeve!

Drawing the sword to strike!

The sword light was like a bolt of silk, carrying all of Ye Xue's vitality, all her hatred, all her despair, condensed into one strike, directly at Lu Jiuyuan's neck!

This sword had no frills, no follow-up moves, only the purest, most extreme speed and power!

It was the last radiance she emitted by burning her life!

It was her last dignity and destination as a member of Youling Villa, as Old Handle of the Saber's daughter, Ye Guhong's sister, and Ye Ling's older sister!

He flicked a finger.

"Om—!"

The ringing of Guhong Sword was low and murderous, as if an echo from the netherworld!

Lu Jiuyuan moved.

His movement was faster than Ye Xue's sword, which condensed her lifelong skill!

So fast that it surpassed her visual capture!

There was no dodging, no parrying, only a clear, solitary sword light, like the first ray of light cutting through the sky, suddenly brightening!

"Chi!"

A very slight sound of a sharp blade cutting through flesh.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

Ye Xue's forward-rushing figure suddenly stopped.

She lowered her head.

At the position of her heart, on her crimson dress, a small, rapidly expanding red plum blossom bloomed.

There was no sharp pain, only a bone-deep coldness that rapidly spread, instantly draining all her strength.

The treasured sword in her hand clanged as it fell into the muddy water, splashing murky water.

Lu Jiuyuan's figure, at some unknown moment, was already standing a step behind her.

Guhong Sword hung diagonally, a drop of crimson blood at its tip quickly dissipating under the washing of the rain.

He was sideways to her, not looking at her falling, his gaze seemingly piercing through the vast rain curtain, looking towards Wudang Mountain.

Ye Xue's body swayed, like a flower branch broken by the wind, slowly falling backward.

"Thud."

She fell heavily into the mud, right beside her sister Ye Ling.

Rainwater mixed with mud quickly soaked her fiery red dress, that once flamboyant red now appearing so dim and desolate.

Her vision began to blur, and darkness surged like a tide. The cold rain hit her face, but she felt no coolness at all.

She turned her head, taking one last look at her sister's pale, cold face beside her.

Then, her gaze laboriously shifted to that azure back.

He still stood there, aloof and cold, as if all life, death, love, and hatred in this world had nothing to do with him.

An extremely complex expression flashed in her dilating pupils.

Was it hatred? Resentment? Regret? Or... relief?

"Heh..." A faint sigh, almost inaudible, escaped her bloodless lips, instantly swallowed by the sound of the rain.

She ultimately failed to become Sun Xiuqing.

He was, after all... that ethereal lone Guhong Sword!

That's fine.

This way... is also fine... Ye Xue's eyelashes, like wet butterfly wings, trembled slightly, and finally slowly closed.

The rain continued to fall with a rustling sound.

Under the old locust tree by the official road, three gradually chilling bodies—one white, one red, one plain—lay in the mud, silently narrating the cruelty and coldness of the Jianghu.

Lu Jiuyuan finally turned around slowly.

He walked to Ye Xue's side, looking down at the young face, exceptionally pale from the rain.

Those eyes, once full of wildness, were now closed forever.

He was silent for a moment.

Then, he reached into his embrace again.

This time, he took out a silk handkerchief with a delicate feel, embroidered with the Imperial Guards' "Nine-Character Needle-Sword" emblem.

He wiped the blood from his sword clean and gently placed the handkerchief over Ye Xue's face, covering those eyes that would never open again.

"You didn't have to die."

His low voice, like a soliloquy, was a sigh no one could understand, dissipating into the boundless rain.

After doing all this, he stood up, no longer glancing at the bodies on the ground.

The azure figure stepped forward, through the mud, and continued to stride towards Wudang Mountain.

"Cold rain beats on sparse duckweed, the post road's quiet at first.

Cutting down all blossoms, unwilling to stay, the sword light in the sleeve is cold.

Hatred arises without cause, resentment ends with none to heed.

The sword falls to dust and mud, blood not yet thin, solitary like a shadow in the clouds."

"Hurry and collect the bodies!"

"Captain, there's one covered with a brocade handkerchief here!"

"Brocade handkerchief? It's an Imperial brocade handkerchief, this person who died has an unusual identity! Get a thick wooden coffin! Give her a grand burial!"

Several Imperial Guards, after Lu Jiuyuan left, busily collected the bodies and tidied up.

"They're all women, and pretty women at that... Second Master he..."

"Shut up, if you want to die, go die by yourself, don't drag us down." The junior officer roared:

"Don't you know what can be said and what cannot?"

"Yes, yes, yes..." The man who spoke wrongly nodded repeatedly, not daring to refute a single word.