The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"That's...that's my second junior sister!"

The voice of the eldest disciple, Danxin Yaowang, trembled, like a string of a zither plucked by a strong wind, each note broken and fragmented.

"It really is her."

The eyes of the second senior brother, the Medicine King of the Green Bag, were already red, and his voice was choked with sobs, like the eaves of a leaky roof.

"But how did she become like this?"

The voice of the third senior brother, the Medicine King, was filled with dull pain.

The pain was so heavy, like a boulder pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"It must be fake."

Fourth Senior Brother Tai Su Medicine King shook his head desperately, as if trying to convince himself, or perhaps defending the gentle figure in his memory.

"Second Junior Sister couldn't possibly be like this. She's such a gentle person, how could she become... become..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

He couldn't continue.

Those who knew Hua Qingwan well, those who had once cultivated alongside her and spent their days with her, were unwilling to believe what they were seeing.

The Hua Qingwan they remembered was the little girl who would squat down in the medicinal herb field to explain herbs to her junior brothers and sisters.

Her voice was as soft as spring water melting in March.

It was that second senior sister, whose beauty was as radiant as ten miles of peach blossoms. When she smiled, her peach blossom eyes curved into crescent moons, and even the wind in the Divine Medicine Valley seemed to warm up a bit.

It was that stubborn figure who, despite being afraid himself, always stood at the forefront.

It's not the person in front of me.

It wasn't this woman who held the Spirit-Locking Bow, exuded a chilling killing intent, and coldly surveyed all living beings with her beautiful peach blossom eyes.

"Second Senior Sister, does it really have to be this way?"

The question is now being asked.

His voice was like a leaf falling into a deep pool.

Does it really have to be this way?

Does it really have to come to this?

"Like this? What do you mean?"

Hua Qingwan tilted her head, her peach blossom eyes as cold as a deep pool frozen for a thousand years, their icy light reflecting no one's image.

"Junior brother, I don't understand what you're saying."

"Since I am the will of Heaven, I am the Way."

She raised the Soul-Locking Bow.

The spiritual patterns on the bow lit up in layers, from dark blue to dark purple, shimmering with light yet exuding a chilling aura.

Three arrows simultaneously materialized, their tips glowing faintly, locking onto the same target.

Three arrows were fired simultaneously; before the strings even sounded, the killing intent was already there.

"Everything I do is in accordance with the will of Heaven! You are the ones who are stubborn and unyielding."

Just as the arrow was about to leave the bowstring, a purple sword light slashed through the air.

The sword light was too fast.

Most people present only saw a purple afterimage flash past their field of vision.

Then came three crisp cracking sounds.

The three arrows were shattered by a single sword strike, completely destroyed, without even the aura emanating from them fading away.

It then transformed into countless specks of light, drifting like scattered purple petals.

Bei Chenji made his move.

"I am here."

He stood a few steps away from Tang Xixue, his crimson robe fluttering in the wind, his Purple Snow Sword pointing diagonally at the ground.

The purple sword light from the previous strike still lingered on the sword's surface.

"No one can harm Xiaoxue'er in the slightest."

He looked at her.

She looked at him too.

The wind passed between the two, carrying the lingering smells of blood and gunpowder from the distant battlefield.

But Bei Chenji couldn't smell anything; he could only detect a scent.

Gardenia.

The delicate, elegant scent of gardenias is etched deep in my memory and has never faded.

"The Prince of Beichen?"

Hua Qingwan raised her eyebrows slightly, and for the first time, a hint of scrutiny appeared in her peach blossom eyes.

She looked him up and down, her gaze sweeping from his face to the sword in his hand, then to the python pattern on his crimson robe, lost in thought.

"Master of the Battle Hall, a cursed lone star? I've heard of you."

She paused, and the smile on her lips deepened.

But the smile didn't reach his eyes; instead, it added to the sense of estrangement.

"Do you have a grudge against me?"

Bei Chenji's Adam's apple bobbed violently.

He had so much to say, so many questions to ask her.

He wanted to ask her where she had gone, and whether she still remembered her home in the South.

Do you remember that afternoon when you reached out your hand to him under the gardenia tree?

Do you remember Purple Snowflake from the Prince of Beichen's Mansion?

Year after year, the flowers bloomed without fading, but she never returned.

But all these words were stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single one.

"..."

Hua Qingwan looked at the silent man in front of her and frowned slightly.

The way this man looked at her was too strange; it wasn't hatred, it wasn't anger, it wasn't the look any enemy should have.

That look was so complex, so complex, that it made her feel something stirring within her.

Like a string buried too deep being plucked unintentionally, the lingering sound resonates for a long time.

She didn't like this feeling.

I dislike this uncontrollable anomaly.

She shook her head, banishing the strange feeling from her mind, her pink hair fluttering gently in the wind.

"Never mind. It's none of my business."

She tightened the bowstring again, her fingertips lightly stroking the string as if polishing a drawn blade.

"Since you insist on blocking my path, then draw your sword."

Bei Chenji did not move.

He simply stood there, his Purple Snow Sword pointing diagonally at the ground, like a silent wall.

That wall will not move, will not collapse, and will not yield.

"What are you waiting for?"

Hua Qingwan's voice turned cold.

Her fingers were already on the bowstring, and a glimmer of light gathered on the string, growing brighter and brighter.

Like a cold moon about to explode.

"Waiting to die? Then I'll grant your wish."

"Mother."

Bei Chenji looked at her, his lips moving slightly.

Those two words seemed to have been dug out from the deepest part of his heart, carrying the longing and pain accumulated over countless days and nights.

His voice was very soft, as if afraid of startling something, yet as heavy as if he had used up all the strength he had in his life.

"you--"

Hua Qingwan's fingers trembled suddenly.

But this time it wasn't him who saw it, but she herself who felt it.

The bowstring vibrated violently at her fingertips, and the arrow, which was mostly in flight, almost flew out of control.

She forced her fingers to steady themselves, but the knuckles of the hand holding the bow had already turned white.

It was as white as a piece of paper that had been drained of all its blood.

"What did you call me?"

Her voice was no longer its usual cold indifference, but carried a bitterness that even she herself was unfamiliar with.

It was as if a hand had pulled something out of the deep pool of her memory, but before she could see it clearly, it sank back down.

You've mistaken me for someone else.

She steadied the bowstring again, her voice regaining its previous indifference.

But the hand holding the bow betrayed her; her knuckles were still white.

I used all my strength to prevent my hands from trembling even once more.

"I am not your mother."

"If you're afraid of dying, then get lost."

Bei Chenji remained silent.

He was never good at expressing himself with words; he simply raised the Purple Snow Sword, its tip pointing at her.

It is not an aggressive stance, but a silent declaration.

It was a declaration he didn't say aloud: "I won't let you pass."

Hua Qingwan gazed into his purple eyes.

Those eyes were a deep purple, like the last rays of sunlight on the horizon at dusk.

It was like the python pattern on his crimson robe, cold and noble, solitary and resolute.

"A cursed lone star, destined to fall."

She gazed into those purple eyes, at that cold yet subtly familiar face, and that strange feeling welled up inside her again.

Like an invisible thread, it tugged at her heart from afar.

She didn't like this feeling, she really didn't like it.

"Since you refuse to give in."

She drew back the Spirit-Locking Bow, and the spirit patterns on the bow lit up layer by layer, from dark blue to dark purple, shimmering with light yet exuding a chilling aura.

"Then I have no choice but to clear away the obstacles."

Arrows rained down like a torrential downpour.

Bei Chenji did not retreat.

He went to meet him.

The Purple Snow Sword whirled in his hand, its light weaving into an impenetrable net that cut, knocked down, and shattered the arrows one by one.

The shattered light from the arrow danced around him like a silent firework display, poignant and magnificent.

The wind still carries the familiar scent of gardenias, faint yet intensely lingering, like an unforgettable memory.

He didn't know if she would recognize him as her child.

All he knew was that he couldn't let her hurt Xiaoxue'er.