Rong Hua was channeling spiritual energy to Yin Jing, and even though the spiritual energy in his body was almost depleted, he desperately continued to transfer it.
This meager amount of spiritual energy was of no use to Yin Jing, but he was so persistent. Even if it only helped a little, or eased her pain, then it wouldn't be in vain.
But he himself was already at the end of his rope.
Yin Jing grasped the hand Rong Hua was using to transfer spiritual energy to her. She shook her head with difficulty, each word labored, "It's... useless, don't... *cough cough*... waste your effort."
As she spoke, she coughed, and a large amount of blood spilled from the corner of her mouth, as if it were endless. She curved her eyes, "I'm sorry... I lied to you... I've always been from the demon realm... but I, I just wanted to stay by your side so badly..."
The more she spoke, the more blood flowed.
Rong Hua's eyes were calm, like a puppet devoid of emotions, eerie and void. "I don't care."
Yin Jing's smile widened, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes, "Does that mean you still have me in your heart?"
Rong Hua fell silent. He was like a statue, his brow carrying an oppressive coldness. He stubbornly tried to staunch the incessantly bleeding wound, but the blood still slipped through his fingers.
At this moment, Yin Jing was exceptionally stubborn, wanting an answer. Like a child, she tugged at the man's hem, "You also like me, right?"
Rong Hua said faintly, "Is this your wish?"
The blood flowed faster and faster, and her life was draining away. Yin Jing's pupils slowly widened, unfocused, yet she still stubbornly held onto his hem.
"Answer... me..."
"Tell me..."
"You like me too..."
She was waiting for an answer, and she wanted to die with a clearer understanding, not leave with regret.
The man, with what seemed like tenderness, or perhaps indifference, his eyelashes obscuring the emotions in his eyes, until the woman's hand, which was gripping his leg, slowly loosened and fell.
She ultimately left with regret.
Rong Hua's face still showed no trace of sadness, cold and numb, as if his remaining emotions had vanished with Yin Jing.
The warm blood turned cold and disgusting, the air thick with the scent of blood, making it impossible to distinguish whose it was, truly nauseating.
"Rong Hua."
The man seemed not to hear, his head still bowed. The bloodstains on his cheek made his ashen, handsome face appear as pale as paper. A chilling wind emanated from him, like something just fished from a cold pool, heavy and lifeless.
Shen Yue walked over, her white robes hanging gracefully, her celestial countenance serene.
Compared to the disheveled state of these two, her eyes were solitary, like stars and moon in the high heavens, her pale, long robes as clear as snow.
Her eyes were covered by white cloth, unmoving. Her face was like snow on a high peak, her voice as faint as jade beads clattering on a plate. She called out again.
"Rong Hua."
Still, there was no response.
Crimson blood stained the hem of her white robes. "Do you know what you are doing?"
Only then did Rong Hua move. He slowly raised his head, looking at the white-robed elder before him, his voice devoid of joy or sorrow, "...Master."
His voice was hoarse and dry, "Can you save her?"
Shen Yue fell silent. Though she could not see, she could feel Rong Hua's unspoken sorrow.
Rong Hua, cradling the already cold corpse in his arms, looked as if he had found a savior, or perhaps grasped the last straw of hope. He gently set Yin Jing down and crawled to Shen Yue's feet.
His strong, tall body now hunched into a ball. His head bowed low, his blood-stained and dusty hands gripped Shen Yue's robes.
Humbly, he knelt at Shen Yue's feet, begging.
"Master, please, save her. She truly didn't harm anyone; she wouldn't even dare harm a bird..."
Shen Yue was slightly stunned. Her cold, proud eyes, like an ink painting, narrowed slightly. She pursed her lips and spoke coldly, "She is from the demon realm."
The fingers clutching the white robe slowly tightened, veins bulging on the back of his hand. His entire body trembled, his head bowed so low that no one could see his expression.
He said, word by word, "Demons... deserve to die?"
Shen Yue remained unperturbed, as if the one kneeling at her feet were not her disciple. Her eyes were tranquil and clear, calm and cold-blooded, "Indeed, they deserve to die."
As if pushed to the brink of collapse, his knuckles turned blue. He then slowly raised his head, his gaze like a venomous snake fixed on the white-robed, blind immortal before him.
The darkness in his eyes was terrifyingly cold. His ink-black pupils flickered with a chilling gleam. The heavy resentment was like the storm-twisted gloom of an abyss, frenzied and distorted.
"You could have saved her..."
"You could have..."
"She did nothing wrong... Master, how could you... how could you watch her die..."
"It should be people like you who deserve to die..."
"It's you!"
The man, like a vengeful spirit crawled from hell, his eyes bloodshot, struggled to stand, wanting to say more. A cool, soft touch on his forehead, and the next moment, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he fainted.
Shen Yue steadied the man's tall frame. The disciples all lowered their heads, not daring to speak. Kong Rong was also dead, and a faint smell of blood permeated the surroundings.
Her gaze fell upon Jiang Ling, who stood stiffly. Her demeanor grew even colder, "Go to the Cliff of Repentance. You are not to leave until I give the order."
Jiang Ling's body jolted. He looked up in panic and apprehension, his eyes fixed on Shen Yue with unease.
He opened his mouth, "Master..."
Before he could finish, Shen Yue had already vanished. Yin Jing's corpse also disappeared.
Jiang Ling blinked slowly, his mind hazy and slow. He also had wounds on his arm. At first, he hadn't intended to harm Rong Hua, knowing how much his Master doted on that good-for-nothing. So, he had tried his best to dodge, and the sword that wounded his arm was struck by Rong Hua.
Jiang Ling did not understand what he had done wrong to be sent to the Cliff of Repentance. He had never been there before, as it was a place for disciples who had committed grave errors.
He had killed a demon, so what was his offense?
Then why was his Master so indifferent to him?
Was it because he had harmed that good-for-nothing?
But he had also been injured.
His Master was so biased...
He hadn't felt anything before, but now the wound on his arm seemed to deepen, the stinging sensation spreading through his entire body, even his heart ached with every beat.
A coolness passed across his face.
Jiang Ling dazedly raised his hand and touched it, feeling a wetness.
Only then did he realize; he... was crying.
Since childhood, Jiang Ling had always been mature and steady, never shedding tears.