A max-level player in Jade Dynasty: Awakening the Innate Dao at the start.

Biyao's laughter echoed through the garden.

It was crisp and crunchy, like a silver bell shattering, its delicate, clear sound scattered all over the ground.

She bent over, still holding the night-blooming jasmine in her hand, her eyes glistening with tears as she smiled.

"This is the first time I've heard a man say... that dew is the tears of flowers."

She straightened up, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and looked at Zhang Xiaofan with a strange light in her eyes.

"You really are..."

She paused for a moment, as if pondering the words.

"Ordinary."

Biyao smiled and said, "Just like you, plain and ordinary-looking."

Zhang Xiaofan did not refute.

He stood under the moonlight, his blue robes fluttering slightly in the night breeze.

His face was expressionless, like a deep well, unmoved by anything thrown at him.

"There's nothing wrong with being ordinary."

Biyao held the flower to her nose again and smelled it.

"How many people in this world want an ordinary life, but they can't even get it?"

Being born too conspicuously can make life exhausting.

She spoke lightly, but something flashed across her eyes.

Like an undercurrent beneath a pool of water.

Biyao suddenly took a step forward, her green skirt sweeping across the cobblestone pavement with a rustling sound.

She moved closer to Zhang Xiaofan and looked up at him.

The moonlight shone on her face, making her skin appear translucent and white, and her eyelashes cast faint shadows under her eyes.

"Feed it." Her voice lowered. "Tell me the truth—is this flower more beautiful, or am I?"

This question is like a pebble thrown into still water.

Zhang Xiaofan looked at her.

I watched for three breaths.

"You're more beautiful than it," he said flatly, "one or two tenths more beautiful."

Biyao was stunned.

She had thought of many answers—he might give a perfunctory answer, he might avoid answering, or he might say that she was a thousand times more beautiful than a flower.

She had heard those kinds of words countless times. From childhood to adulthood, the people who flattered her could stretch from Fox Ridge Mountain to Heyang City.

Is it one or two out of ten beautiful?

What kind of algorithm is this?

Biyao suddenly burst out laughing.

This time, the smile was different from the previous one. It wasn't mockery or teasing; it was a genuine smile that radiated from the depths of his eyes.

When she smiles, her eyebrows and eyes curve into crescent moons, and the dimples at the corners of her mouth are shallow, like they are filled with moonlight.

"You..." She shook her head, laughing so hard she couldn't speak.

But as they laughed, the smile faded.

Like a candle that has burned out, the last bit of light struggled to jump for a moment, but then went out.

In the depths of Biyao's eyes, the undercurrents of that deep pool surged up again, heavy and oppressive, making it hard to breathe.

Zhang Xiaofan saw it all.

"You're surrounded by too many flatterers."

He spoke, his tone flat and even.

"I am not like them, and I do not say things against my conscience."

You ask me, and I'll answer.

You are more beautiful than flowers, but only a tenth or a twelfth of your beauty—that's how I see you.

He paused, then added, "I'm not one of those Tom, Dick, or Harry; I only tell the truth."

Biyao's smile vanished completely.

She stared at Zhang Xiaofan, her eyes as complex as a spilled palette of paints.

All sorts of emotions were mixed together, and it was impossible to tell whether it was anger, surprise, or sadness.

After a long while, she lowered her head and looked at the flowers in her hand.

That night-blooming jasmine flower has already wilted a bit.

The petals curled up at the edges, their color dull, no longer possessing the lustrous sheen they had under the moonlight.

"At least..." Biyao said softly, as if to herself, "At least there are still people... who feel sorry for your tears."

She let go.

The flower fell to the ground, its white petals covered in mud.

Biyao turned and left, her green dress fluttering like a fallen leaf in the night.

After taking a few steps, she suddenly stopped, without turning around, her voice drifting over:

"Flowers shed tears at the passing of time, birds startle at the sorrow of parting."

The poem was recited so softly that it was almost blown away by the night breeze.

"It turns out that I'm not the only one in this world who's heartbroken."

she left.

Zhang Xiaofan remained standing there, looking at the flower that had fallen to the ground.

The moonlight shone quietly, and the dew on the petals had dried, leaving only a small damp spot.

He bent down and picked up the flower.

My fingers touched the petals; they were cold and soft, like the wings of a dead butterfly.

In the shadows at the other end of the garden, Yu Ji stood quietly.

The black robe blended into the night, with only his eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness.

She watched Biyao's retreating figure, then looked at the boy bending down to pick up flowers in the distance, and her brows furrowed involuntarily.

When Biyao walked to her side, her eyes were still a little red.

"Have you found out?" Biyao asked, her voice now calm, showing no trace of the turmoil from before.

"Mm." Yu Ji nodded.

"They are from the Qingyun Sect."

The older one is called Qi Hao. He's quite skilled and should be the leader.

The names of the other three, who were younger, were still unknown.

"Zhang Xiaofan," Biyao said, "the one with the fire poker is called Zhang Xiaofan."

Yu Ji's eyes flickered.

What's so special about him?

"Nothing special." Biyao repeated her words, but a slight smile played on her lips.

"He's average-looking, speaks average-sounding, and even when he compliments someone, he only praises them to the point of being one or two out of ten—would you say he's special or not?"

Youji did not laugh.

Her gaze passed over Biyao and looked into the depths of the garden.

The young man in blue had already straightened up, holding the withered flower in his hand, and was looking down at something.

"Sometimes, the more ordinary a person appears, the more unfathomable they are inside."

Youji said slowly, "It's like a pool of water, calm on the surface, but with unknown depths of whirlpools hidden beneath."

Biyao didn't respond.

She followed Youji's gaze and saw Zhang Xiaofan bend down and gently place the flower next to the roots of a cluster of night-blooming jasmine.

The movements were very gentle, as if they were carefully placing something fragile.

Youji suddenly sighed.

She looked at the blooming night-blooming jasmine beside her, her eyes somewhat dazed:

"These flowers... used to bloom everywhere on Fox Hill."

That spring, the whole mountain smelled sweet, your mother…”

"Stop talking."

Biyao's voice turned cold.

Youji stopped and looked at her.

Biyao turned her face to the side, and the moonlight only shone on half of her cheek.

The other half was hidden in the shadows, and the expression was not visible.

"I don't want to mention him," Biyao said, her voice as hard as stone.

"For so many years, he hasn't even refused to see me. I know he hates me, hates me for what happened back then..."

She choked up.

His fingers curled up, his nails digging deep into his palms.

The pain was sharp, but it couldn't suppress the old wounds surging in my heart.

"It's my fault that my mother died so tragically."

Biyao's voice lowered, becoming almost inaudible.

"If it weren't for me... if it weren't for my insistence on going along..."

Youji reached out her hand, intending to pat her shoulder, but stopped halfway through.

"The sect leader actually cares about you a lot."

Youji said, her voice tinged with helplessness.

"He just... doesn't know how to face you."

Every time he sees you, he thinks of his wife, and of that day…

"So he chose not to meet with them."

Biyao chuckled, a veiled barb in her voice. "Out of sight, out of mind, is that it?"

Youji was speechless.

She looked at Biyao, at the girl she had raised herself.

Looking at the forced smile on her face, and the deep pain buried in her eyes,

Watching her use her spoiled and willful nature to cover up her heart that was riddled with holes.

Some wounds can't be healed just by talking about them.

Some knots cannot be untied by outsiders.

"Go and get some rest," Yu Ji said finally.

"We still have to travel tomorrow. This trip to Kongsang Mountain is no joke."

That place used to be the stronghold of the Blood Refining Hall, where countless dangers were hidden.

"Don't be so willful."

Biyao did not answer.

She turned around, her green dress drawing a stunning arc in the night.

Yu Ji stood there, watching her retreating figure, then turned back to look at the depths of the garden.

The boy named Zhang Xiaofan is gone; only the night-blooming jasmine blooms quietly under the moon, its sweet fragrance making one's heart race.

She suddenly remembered the man in white robes stained with blood from three hundred years ago.

He once stood quietly under the moonlight, a sword in his hand, his eyes as deep as an unfathomable pool.

……absurd.

Yu Ji shook her head, banishing the absurd thought from her mind.

---

Ten days later.

The sky was leaden gray, and the clouds hung low, as if they were about to collapse.

The wind blew in from the east, carrying the smell of sand and dust. It was dry and rough, and felt like tiny knives on my face.

Four sword lights ripped through the sky.

Zeng Shushu rode the Xuanyuan Sword and flew beside Zhang Xiaofan.

He turned his head to look east, where a continuous stretch of black mountains could be seen on the horizon, resembling a crouching giant beast.

"That's Kongsang Mountain," Zeng Shushu raised his voice, drowning out the wind.

"We'll arrive in another three hundred miles. This place... tsk, it's no place for a human to live."

Zhang Xiaofan followed his gaze.

That mountain was completely bare, with not a single patch of green in sight.

The dark, exposed stones resembled the jagged skeleton of a giant beast.

A gray mist hung over the mountains, obscuring what lay deep within.

"Eight hundred years ago, this was the lair of the Blood Refining Hall of the Demonic Cult."

Zeng Shushu continued,

"At that time, the Demonic Sect was very powerful, and there were many experts in the Blood Refining Hall. They were tyrannical and rampant."

Later, Patriarch Qingye led the righteous path to besiege and suppress them. That battle was fierce and the sky darkened. The Blood Refining Hall was destroyed, but this place…”

He paused, his tone turning serious:

"But the ominous aura of this place has not completely dissipated to this day."

The mountains are teeming with spirits and monsters, and there are countless poisonous insects and ferocious beasts.

What's more troublesome is that there are still restrictive formations left behind by the Blood Refining Hall underground; one wrong move and you're caught in one.

Zhang Xiaofan nodded without saying anything.

His gaze remained fixed on the mountain, his brows furrowing slightly.

From the moment he stepped into this place, he felt an indescribable sense of oppression.

It felt like something was watching from the shadows, cold and sticky, sending chills down your spine.

"Are you scared?" Zeng Shushu suddenly asked, a smile on his face.

Zhang Xiaofan turned to look at him.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of dying," Zeng Shushu said matter-of-factly.

"This place is very strange, our mission..."

They said they were searching for the vampire demon's trail, but who knows what kind of monsters they might encounter? What if…”

He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear.

Zhang Xiaofan looked at the approaching black mountain range, remained silent for a moment, and then said, "I'm not afraid."

Zeng Shushu smiled.

"Okay, you're good." He mimicked Zhang Xiaofan's tone.

"If we really run into trouble, you'll have to protect me."

As the two were talking, Qi Hao and Lu Xueqi flew closer.

Qi Hao's expression was solemn, clearly sensing the strangeness of this place.

Lu Xueqi still had that aloof demeanor, but the knuckles of her hand holding the Tianya Sword were slightly white.

"The three major righteous sects have joined forces this time."

Zeng Shushu lowered his voice,

"Qingyun, Fenxiang Valley, and Tianyin Temple all sent people."

I wonder if the other two factions have arrived yet.

If we get there, we can look out for each other.

If it hasn't arrived yet...

Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Xiaofan suddenly raised his hand.

"etc."

The four sword lights stopped simultaneously.

Zhang Xiaofan hovered in mid-air, his gaze fixed on the valley below.

The fog was thickest there, a hazy gray, and you couldn't see anything.

But just now, he heard a very faint sound—

The sound of wings flapping.

Not just one, but a whole patch.

Densely packed, like surging tides.

"Be careful," Zhang Xiaofan said, only two words.

The moment the words left his mouth, the fog below exploded.

A black torrent surged into the sky.

That wasn't fog, it was bats—thousands upon thousands, countless bats.

Each one was the size of a palm, with eyes as red as blood, and sharp teeth that gleamed coldly in the dim light.

The sound of flapping wings blended together, buzzing so loudly it hurt one's ears.

They were like a giant black net, instantly enveloping the four people inside.

My vision was blocked, and dark shadows were rushing towards me from all directions.

Claws slashed through the air, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound.

A foul stench assaulted the nostrils, a mixture of blood and rotting flesh.

"Land!" Zhang Xiaofan's voice cut through the cacophony of the bats. "In the air, we're sitting ducks!"

A bluish light appeared.

The moment the fire poker was drawn, it swept out a fan-shaped gust of wind.

Dozens of bats were chopped in two, and blood and bits of flesh splattered everywhere.

But more bats swarmed up, one after another, seemingly endless.

Zeng Shushu unleashed a flurry of attacks with the Xuanyuan Sword, Qi Hao's Frost Sword emanated chilling energy, and Lu Xueqi's Tianya Sword shone like lightning.

But there are too many bats.

There are so many that it's despairing.

The four were forced to separate, each committing suicide to carve a bloody path down the mountain.

When Zhang Xiaofan landed, he was standing on hard, black stones.

He turned around and saw Zeng Shushu not far away, and Qi Hao a little further away.

Where is Lu Xueqi?

Zhang Xiaofan's heart tightened.

He looked around; gray fog filled the air, and swarms of bats roamed the area. He could only see a few feet ahead.

The blue light of the Tianya Sword disappeared, and Lu Xueqi's white figure vanished as well.

"Senior Sister Lu!" Zeng Shushu also noticed, her voice filled with panic.

Zhang Xiaofan closed his eyes.

When the Taiji Xuanqing Dao is activated to its limit, the divine sense spreads out like ripples on water.

Ten zhang, twenty zhang, fifty zhang—

A hundred meters away, a blue light flickered among the swarm of bats.

Around the blue light, black bats swarmed like madmen, layer upon layer, almost swallowing the light completely.

The sword's cry was drowned out by the bats' screams, so weak it was almost inaudible.

Zhang Xiaofan opened his eyes.

A bluish glint flashed in his eyes.

The fire poker hummed and vibrated, its body shimmering with a dark red light, like a ferocious beast awakening and opening its eyes.

He gripped the stick tightly, touched the ground with his toes, and shot off like an arrow toward the blue light.

A cyan sword aura condensed in front of him, tearing through the air and slicing through everything in his path.

The bat carcasses fell like raindrops.

Blood stained the black stones red.

A hundred meters apart, yet at this moment, it felt like an insurmountable chasm between life and death.

Zhang Xiaofan's eyes were only on the approaching blue light, and the faint white figure at the center of the blue light.

He rushed into the deepest part of the swarm of bats.

Then, he saw her.