029 Wrong Phrasing

029 Wrong Phrasing

Jia Yun dreamt of high castles.

Of tall spires wrapped in clouds, polished floors reflecting the moonlight, and silk-draped halls filled with laughter. She dreamt of warm hands brushing against her hair, of murmured words promising that she was special, that she was precious.

She dreamt of love.

And then she dreamt of the day it was all taken away.

The gazes that once held pride now carried disappointment. The warm hands that once comforted her turned cold. The halls that once echoed with laughter became silent.

She had no talent, they said. She was unworthy, they whispered.

She was cast away.

Not officially, of course. On paper, she had been sent to the Riverfall Continent as an ambassador, a chance to ‘temper herself in the lower realms.’ But Jia Yun knew the truth. It had been exile, in all but name.

That was why she had worked herself to the bone. She cultivated relentlessly, pushing past her limits until her meridians screamed in protest. She gathered allies, strengthened her reputation, clawed her way back up the mountain she had been kicked down from.

Starting from Cloud Mist Sect.

She would rise again.

And then—

She was betrayed.

When the spiritual link feeding her immortal qi vanished, the first thought that crossed her mind wasn’t that she had been outplayed, nor that she had been weak.

It was that

Pan Xia had betrayed her.

Her eyes snapped open, and the first person she saw was Elder Pan Xia himself.

“Elder Pan,” she whispered, her throat raw. Her hands clenched into weak fists. “Why did you betray this seat?”

Pan Xia stiffened. “It has been a misunderstanding—”

“A

MISUNDERSTANDING?!

” she shrieked, voice shaking. “THIS JIA YUN ALMOST DIED!”

A cough interrupted them.

“Ahem.”

Jia Yun’s head snapped toward the corner of the room, where a man in elegant verdant robes stood. His posture was relaxed, one hand resting against the lacquered wood of the doorframe.

“It looks like I am not needed here anymore…” he mused. “A pity.”

His gaze landed on her, and it was that

look

that set her blood boiling. A look of

pity.

A look of

resignation.

As if she had already been written off.

Her body moved before she could think. Even in her weakened state, her instincts screamed at her to strike, to make him

pay

for daring to look down on her.

The moment she flared her qi, she regretted it.

Pain shot through her body as if every nerve in her system had been set on fire. Her meridians strained, the cracks in them widening as she gasped, her vision swimming.

The young man tilted his head as if only now realizing her intent. He exhaled softly.

“I am going to regret this,” he muttered.

Slowly, green veins traced with gold began to glow along her arms.

“Divine Word: Life,”

he spoke.

A warm sensation, like the first breath of spring after a long winter, flowed through her body.

Jia Yun’s frayed nerve endings began to knit themselves back together.

The cracks in her meridians were rebuilt anew—stronger, sturdier, as if they had never been broken at all. She clenched her fingers, feeling the warm flow of qi circulate through her limbs. It was… miraculous. The kind of healing that even the best physicians of the Imperial Capital would have struggled to achieve… barring the Divine Physician.

She turned her attention to the man who had performed it.

The moment she laid eyes on him, her mind shifted into assessment mode. His verdant robes were of high quality but unadorned with sect insignias—either a rogue cultivator or someone who deliberately kept a low profile. His face was youthful, almost lazy, but those eyes… sharp, amused, and entirely unfazed by her outburst. He had healed her without a single sign of strain.

A true expert.

Her stomach twisted slightly in guilt. She had just lashed out at him in a moment of weakness, assuming the worst. She wasn’t ashamed of feeling emotions—rage, betrayal, helplessness. But acting on them irrationally? That was a mistake. And mistakes needed to be corrected.

Without hesitation, she changed her approach.

Jia Yun clasped her hands together and bowed deeply.

“Jia Yun asks for forgiveness from Senior for the folly she has caused.”

She wasn’t ashamed of her complete 180-degree shift in attitude. The strong were to be respected, even requested. If there was a chance to establish rapport with this person, she would take it.

The man blinked at her. Then, in a tone filled with exasperation, he said, “Oh, come on. Do you actually speak in the third person? Seriously? Is that why you barely talked during the arena match?”

Jia Yun stiffened.

Ah. The

arena.

Who won?

Her stomach churned, but she kept her face still. It didn’t matter. There was still tomorrow. She would rise again.

More importantly, what was

wrong

with speaking in the third person? That had been the trend in the Imperial Capital the last time she was there.

Despite the turmoil in her heart, she maintained a masterful poker face.

As expected of an

ice-cold beauty.

Jia Yun maintained her bow, waiting for a response from the mysterious cultivator. His expression was unreadable, his gaze assessing but not unkind.

Before she could say anything more, Elder Pan Xia finally cleared his throat.

“Jia Yun,” he began cautiously, “allow me to formally introduce Senior Da Wei.”

She frowned.

Da Wei?

She turned the name over in her mind but found no recollection of any such expert. The Riverfall Continent did not house many high-ranking masters without a reputation.

“Senior Da Wei was the one who healed you,” Pan Xia continued, his tone oddly restrained. “You owe him your life.”

Jia Yun bit back the urge to demand his cultivation level outright. Such a question, while common among lesser circles, was considered

savage

in the higher imperial ranks. It implied a lack of tact and a disregard for etiquette. The strong didn’t ask—they observed, inferred, and understood.

Still, she was tempted.

Before she could speak, however, Pan Xia’s voice suddenly entered her mind, his words carried by

Qi Speech.

Tread lightly, Jia Yun. This master follows the extremely righteous path.

That meant this Da Wei would tolerate no evil… no matter how minor.

Jia Yun stiffened, glancing at Elder Pan Xia out of the corner of her eye. He looked uneasy, his lips barely moving as he continued the silent transmission.

Do not antagonize him. Do not question him. Do not test him.

What?

She almost scoffed but caught herself. Was Elder Pan serious?

Pan Xia continued,

If you must know, Jia Yun, this same person is likely the reason

we

lost in the arena.

We

dared to cheat by using immortal qi

and activating your bloodline art. A mere

Second R

ealm tournament was beneath you, yet you pushed the limits—and this was

our

punishment.

It wasn’t exactly a Second Realm tournament.

It just happened that was the average level of the participants and that Jia Yun had a trump card that would allow her to raise her realm by borrowing external force.

Jia Yun’s breath caught in her throat.

More importantly,

Pan Xia pressed,

this Da Wei is a peer of the Isolation Path Sect Master.

Her entire body went cold.

A peer… of the Isolation Path Sect Master?

Visibly, the color drained from her face.

Elder Pan Xia coughed into his fist, regaining his composure after seeing Jia Yun's reaction. He turned toward Da Wei and spoke in a carefully measured tone.

“Senior Da Wei, would you be so gracious as to give us a moment? There are some matters I must discuss with disciple Jia Yun.”

Da Wei raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem offended. Instead, he crossed his arms and smirked. “Sure, but I actually have a few things to talk to you two about as well. No rush, though. I’ll wait outside.”

Jia Yun narrowed her eyes. “Jia Yun offers her thanks. How generous of you,” she said. Then, she took a slow breath and added, “Senior wouldn’t be eavesdropping on Jia Yun and Elder Pan Xia, would you?”

Da Wei frowned. “Eavesdropping? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

She held his gaze, unimpressed. Still, she was nervous.

Da Wei clicked his tongue. “Alright, alright. I’ll excuse myself properly. Spying on you guys is more effort than it’s worth.” He turned toward the door, flicking his sleeves. “I’ll be in the VIP area if you need me. Try not to take too long.”

With that, he strolled out of the room.

Jia Yun and Elder Pan Xia remained still for a few moments, making sure he was truly gone. When they could no longer sense his presence, Pan Xia immediately reached into his robes and pulled out several talismans.

One by one, he activated them, each one shimmering briefly before disappearing into the walls, forming a layered barrier of protection.

Jia Yun watched silently as he worked, her mind already racing with possibilities.

Pan Xia let out a deep sigh, his expression solemn as he clasped his hands together. “It is truly of my utmost pleasure that you still live, My Lady.”

Jia Yun, still propped up against the bedding, crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, because you could have been beheaded for letting the noble daughter directly descended from the main sect perish so miserably.” Her tone was sharp, but there was no true anger behind it—only cold pragmatism. “This Jia Yun warns you.”

Pan Xia swallowed. He did not need the reminder.

Jia Yun exhaled, allowing herself to lean back. “That aside, how is the Immortal Qi?”

Without hesitation, Pan Xia reached inside his robes and retrieved a small vial. Within it swirled translucent, nearly invisible particles, so faint that one could mistake the container for being empty. It was the purest essence of qi—specifically, the qi of Eleventh Stage practitioners, those rumored to have set foot upon the path of immortality itself.

For something as volatile and powerful as Immortal Qi, Jia Yun needed Pan Xia who was of higher cultivation realm to facilitate it.

Jia Yun's eyes narrowed as she observed the pitiful amount left. Her Nine-Tailed Fox Ascendance technique required Immortal Qi to activate. When the spiritual link supplying her had been severed, she had been left helpless at the mercy of her opponent.

She reached for the vial but stopped short. Instead, she took a more serious tone, lowering her voice to something nearly imperceptible. “How much did we lose?”

She had entrusted Pan Xia with managing their funds. When he had first informed her of the gambling opportunity, she had given him full consent to go all in. The investment had been meant to secure crucial resources for their future.

Pan Xia hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “…The Nether Ghost Flames.”

Jia Yun gritted her teeth. She had expected losses, but not this.

Unlike other treasures, the

Nether Ghost Flames

weren’t just a rare auction item—they were the Cloud Mist Sect’s

own property

. Their sect had intended to use it to amass funds for the day of the auction, securing rare materials and techniques for their top disciples. Losing it was not just a financial setback; it was an insult to their standing.

She gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening beneath the covers. A part of her burned with resentment. Another part of her knew there was no point lamenting it.

The only thing left to do was plan her next move.

Jia Yun sat up, her mind racing through the implications of what had happened. She had come too close to death—closer than she had ever expected in this forsaken continent. It wasn’t failure that frustrated her the most, but the fact that she had been completely outmaneuvered.

How?

She let out a slow breath, suppressing the turbulent emotions inside her. “This Jia Yun shall continue to trust Elder Pan in light of recent events.”

Elder Pan Xia lowered his head slightly, hands clasped together in gratitude. “I shall not betray your trust, My Lady, but I fear we are outmatched. We cannot scheme our way into this auction.”

And the reason for that was clear—Da Wei.

If Pan Xia’s assessment was correct, then this

Da Wei

was not only a cultivator of a higher realm but an

extremely righteous cultivator

.

Jia Yun frowned. The term

extreme righteousness

wasn’t a compliment—it was slang used in higher imperial circles to describe cultivators who held absurdly strict beliefs on justice. They were often destructive, sometimes even suicidal, as they pursued their ideals without regard for personal safety or reputation. In fact, their obsession with enforcing justice often made them dangerous.

It suddenly made perfect sense. If Da Wei truly embodied this extreme righteousness, then it was no surprise that he had almost killed her the moment he discovered their

cheating

.

Immortal Qi…

Jia Yun clenched her fist beneath the covers. That was the part that unsettled her the most.

“Jia Yun is curious how Da Wei found out about Immortal Qi.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp. Immortal Qi wasn’t something just anyone could detect. It was a pervasive, formless essence—something invisible to all but those with highly specialized means.

Even among the main sect’s experts, only a select few had the ability to perceive it directly.

Moreover, Riverfall was a backwater that barely had any idea about the higher realms.

And yet,

Da Wei had found it. More than that, he had somehow sabotaged their use of it.

That was the true mystery.

Pan Xia sighed. “I guess we will never know.” He shook his head. “It’s luck that he was a healer and had a softer temperament compared to his extremely righteous counterparts. If anything, he is a foreigner and it is most likely he does have esoteric knowledge about Immortal Qi.”

A foreigner?

That was troublesome.

An unknown variable.

Jia Yun narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe in luck.

Jia Yun folded her arms, her expression cold and unreadable as she regarded Elder Pan Xia. "We need to decide how to handle Da Wei."

Pan Xia sighed, rubbing his temples. "My Lady, there is no handling someone like him. He is beyond our means."

Jia Yun frowned. "Are you suggesting we cower? That we bow our heads like lowly servants? This Da Wei may have been stronger, but I refuse to believe we have no way to counter him."

Pan Xia gave her a wry smile. "This is not a matter of strength alone. He follows

extreme righteousness

. People like him are unpredictable. If we antagonize him further, we risk inviting disaster upon ourselves and the sect. Do you not understand? If he truly wanted to, he could have

killed

you in the arena, and no one would have stopped him. Correction: no one would have known it was him who had done it. Instead, he healed you. That means he

chose

mercy. That is already a fortunate outcome."

Jia Yun clenched her jaw, unwilling to accept his words but unable to refute them. The humiliation of her defeat still burned, but the reality was undeniable. If Da Wei had been the type to eradicate those he deemed unjust, she would not be standing here now.

"...Then what do you propose?"

"We keep our distance." Pan Xia's voice was firm. "Or, if an opportunity presents itself, we accost him. Someone like him does not scheme or maneuver in the shadows—he acts openly, without hesitation. If we can earn his favor, we may turn a potential threat into an unexpected ally."

Jia Yun scoffed. "You want me to befriend him?"

"I want you to survive." Pan Xia’s expression was solemn. "For now, that means making sure Da Wei does not see us as enemies. He has already crippled our greatest advantage in the upcoming auction, but we still have other ways to recover. Let us not add unnecessary conflict."

Jia Yun closed her eyes and took a deep breath, suppressing the rising frustration. "Fine. I will leave him be—for now."

Pan Xia nodded. "That is for the best."

Later that day, Jia Yun stepped onto the dueling stage once more for the rest of the quarter-finals.

Her second opponent was a contestant from the Lu Clan, a well-built young man wielding a spear. The fight had been grueling, a clash of precision and endurance. Despite her injuries from the previous day, she had managed to push him into a draw, their battle ending when the time limit was reached with neither side able to decisively claim victory.

Her third match was against a Sword Canopy disciple, a cultivator whose style relied heavily on overwhelming sword formations. It had been a test of patience, waiting for the right moment to strike amidst the sea of blades. When she finally found an opening, she capitalized on it, securing a hard-earned victory.

With one win, one draw, and one loss, her record was now balanced.

But balance was not what she wanted.

As she left the stage, she clenched her fists.

Tomorrow, she would fight again. And she

would

win.

Jia Yun moved with measured steps, her exhaustion settling deep into her bones. She wanted nothing more than to return to her quarters, meditate, and recover her strength. The battles had taken their toll, and her mind reeled from the weight of everything that had transpired. Yet, the world of cultivation was unkind to those who sought rest too soon.

A shadow loomed before her.

Her muscles tensed.

The cultivation world had always been a cruel place, where the strong ruled over the weak. And sometimes… once in a while… unreasonable powers would descend upon you, stepping all over you without warning.

Jia Yun exhaled slowly, suppressing her unease as she cupped her fists and bowed. “This disciple greets Senior.”

Da Wei regarded her with an unreadable expression, arms crossed behind his back. The light of the moon illuminated his features, and for a moment, he appeared almost ethereal, as if the heavens themselves had sculpted him.

“I believe you still owe me that conversation,” he said.

Jia Yun hesitated. Her heart beat just a little faster, though she would never admit it. “Jia Yun shall accompany Senior.”

It was already night. Elder Pan Xia had left earlier, intent on topping off their funds for the auction. She was alone. Vulnerable. She disliked the feeling immensely.

Da Wei smiled. It was the kind of smile that had undoubtedly made countless young ladies weak in the knees, the kind that could disarm even the most cautious of hearts.

But Jia Yun was an ice-cold beauty.

She had trained herself to remain unmoved.

Then Da Wei spoke.

“How about we spend the night together?”

A shudder ran down Jia Yun’s spine.