Chapter 268. Shattered Hope

The sky had long turned heavy with clouds. Night passed. The stars vanished. And slowly, the sun rose again, spilling pale light across the roofs of Xuanyi Pavilion.

Shu Mingye was still there. Exactly where he had been since the day before. Standing in front of the healing hall door. He hadn’t moved. Not when the air turned cold. Not when it grew warm again. Not when Song Meiyu dozed off against He Yuying’s shoulder or when Master Tian Mo muttered something about “youthful stupidity” and left. He never sat. Never spoke. He only waited.

At last, the door opened.

Master Yin Xue stepped out. Calm as always, but her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion.

Shu Mingye finally moved. He stepped forward, his voice dry and low. “How is she?”

Master Yin Xue gave him a long look, then frowned. “I told you to change your clothes. You’re still covered in blood. Do you plan to frighten her awake like this?”

Shu Mingye didn’t even blink. “How is she?” he asked again.

Master Yin Xue sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Not good,” she admitted. “But she is still breathing.”

His jaw tightened, his voice lowering further. “Will she be okay?”

There was a long pause.

Master Yin Xue looked down at the floor for a moment before answering. “Her spiritual energy is in chaos. Like a storm ripping through her body. By all logic, by every rule I know, she should have already fallen apart. But she hasn’t.”

Her gaze lifted again. “Something inside her is holding her together. You’d know better what it is.”

Shu Mingye’s jaw clenched, but his voice stayed even. “There are protective arrays inside her. From her master.”

Master Yin Xue gave a small nod. “That explains it. Those arrays may be the reason she is still alive.” She paused, her calm voice carrying the weight of truth. “But her condition is still very serious. Do not expect her to wake anytime soon.”

Shu Mingye stood quiet for a moment. His eyes darkened, unreadable. Then he turned without another word and left.

Shen Zhenyu had been standing quietly near the door. His arms crossed, his brows drawn tight with worry. The morning sun had risen fully, casting light over Xuanyi Pavilion, but there was no warmth in it. Finally, he turned to Master Yin Xue and asked in a low voice, “Master Yin Xue, what really happened?”

Master Yin Xue didn’t answer immediately. She looked as if the night had aged her. Her hair was slightly out of place, her robes wrinkled, her hands still stained with herbs and blood. She exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers to her temple.

“I don’t know either,” Master Yin Xue admitted at last. “We only saw the lightning from far outside the wall. It was overwhelming. The energy and sound, it was enough to shake the sky. I’ve never felt anything like it. We were terrified something had gone horribly wrong. And when I arrived… Linyue was already covered in blood. But none of you seemed hurt. Not by the lightning, at least.”

Shen Zhenyu lowered his head. His voice came out soft. “It must have been her lightning. It saved us. That dark red energy… it was crushing, choking us. But her lightning… it burned through all of it. It even reignited my spiritual energy.” He paused, frowning as if the thought unsettled him. “I even feel stronger than before.”

Master Yin Xue studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Her lightning didn’t just burn the dark energy. It cleansed your meridian. Opened new paths so your energy could flow again.”

Shen Zhenyu’s brows furrowed. “I didn’t know lightning could do that.”

Master Yin Xue’s lips curved faintly, a tired smile tugging at her face. “My master used to talk about it. But we never had proof. Lightning cultivators are rare. And even if you find one, who would volunteer to be struck repeatedly in the name of spiritual growth?”

Then her smile tilted sharper, a glint of dry amusement slipping through her calm. “Well. I suppose now we know. Congratulations, my dear. You’ve survived what most people would pay to avoid.”

Shen Zhenyu managed a faint huff of breath. Almost a laugh but it died too quickly. His expression darkened again. “Then Linyue, is there a way to help her?”

Master Yin Xue went silent. Her hands folded behind her back. Her voice was calm, but low. “There is. Her body is overwhelmed by spiritual energy. If we had another lightning cultivator. One who could draw it out slowly, stabilize the flow… then maybe, she could be saved.”

Shen Zhenyu’s eyes lowered. His fists clenched tight at his sides. “But she’s the only one we have.”

Master Yin Xue didn’t deny it. She only nodded once.

“And her master,” Shen Zhenyu added bitterly, his voice hardening. “But her master is the one who caused this.”

Silence settled between them. The only sound was the soft crackle of wind through the trees. The sky had grown bright, yet the weight in the air remained. The silence stretched until Master Yin Xue finally broke it, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Where is her master?”

Shen Zhenyu shook his head. “I don’t know. When I opened my eyes, he was already gone. But Master…” He paused, his jaw tightening. “Even if we knew where he was, he couldn’t help us. He shouldn’t. Not after what he did.”

Master Yin Xue exhaled slowly, her brows creasing. “But you heard him before,” she said. “He’s the one who put those protective arrays inside her. That’s the only reason she’s still alive.”

“I don’t understand that part either,” Shen Zhenyu admitted quietly. “He hurt her. But he also saved her.”

Just then, footsteps echoed softly from the hallway. Shu Mingye had returned. He had changed into clean robes, the red stains all gone. But his face was still pale, his eyes dark and hollow.

He didn’t glance at Shen Zhenyu. His gaze fixed on Master Yin Xue. “I want to see her.”

Master Yin Xue studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Alright.”

She led him through the hall, past quiet rooms and long curtains, to a chamber tucked in the corner. The door slid open.

Inside, the light was soft, almost too gentle for the storm that had brought them here. A breeze moved faintly through the open window, carrying the scent of herbs.

On the bed lay Linyue. Her bloodstained robes had been replaced with clean, pale silk. The blood was gone. Her skin wiped clean. Her long hair was smoothed down around her shoulders. She looked peaceful. But too still. Too pale. Her face had no color at all. Her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising only the tiniest bit with each breath.

Shu Mingye stepped inside. The soft light brushed across the bed, across her still form. He moved without sound, without thought, until he was beside her. He sank to his knees, reaching out. His fingers brushed her cheek.

Cold. He felt it the moment he touched her. The kind of cold that didn’t belong to sleep. His chest tightened until it hurt. He wanted to feel relieved. He wanted to believe that because she wasn’t bleeding, because she looked calm, she was safe now. But his heart told him otherwise.

He leaned closer, his voice breaking into a whisper only she could hear. “Pie…”

She didn’t stir. No shift in her breath. So he stayed there. His forehead pressed to her hand. His thumb tracing the delicate curve of her wrist. The silence of the room stretched until it felt like centuries had slipped through it.

Light shifted across the walls. The sun climbed, then fell. Rose again, only to sink once more. He stopped trying to count how many times. Maybe three days. Maybe seven. It didn’t matter. The world could collapse into dust for all he cared. He wasn’t leaving. When exhaustion threatened to drag him down, he leaned against the bedpost, pulling her carefully into his arms. Her head rested on his chest like it always did. His hand stroked her hair again and again, slow and careful. His voice stayed locked in his throat, but the motion never stopped. And through it all, she remained the same. Still unmoving. Still silent.

No. Not always. Twice, she stirred. Her eyes never opened, but her body heaved. Coughs tore through her chest, violent and raw. Blood spilled from her lips, staining the pillow red. It soaked into his robes, hot against his skin, cutting straight through to his heart. She choked on it, gasped for breath, then slipped away again, back into the dark.

Both times, something in him cracked. His arms tightened. His thoughts turned black and furious, cursing heaven, earth, fate, anything that would listen. He wished he could take it from her, wished the blood filling her lungs was his instead. But all his power, all his fire, meant nothing here. He could do nothing but sit and hold her as she suffered.