Chapter 66

Chapter 66: Rift and Division

The more the onlookers thought about it, the angrier they got. A dignified Sect Master had come making a spectacle without confirming anything—dragging them into it, letting them curse alongside him, then leaving them to swallow the embarrassment.

With so many eyes on him, the Sect Master could only choke down his bitterness.

He had never imagined Ye Chu Xue would be so unreliable, that every “certainty” she spoke would collapse into smoke.

Now Song Wan Ning watched them with the calm patience of a tiger stalking prey. The Sect Master’s old face flushed red, then redder.

The two elders looked no better. Their expressions tightened until they seemed ready to split, embarrassed enough to crawl into a crack in the ground.

“Junior Sister Song,” one elder said through a strained smile, “we’re all family. Don’t let outsiders laugh at us…”

“Yes, yes.” The other elder forced a laugh that sounded like choking. “Let’s talk after we return to the sect. With so many outsiders watching, it doesn’t look good!”

They tried to turn a big matter into a small one, a small one into nothing.

Their shamelessness made Song Wan Ning’s lips curl.

“I remember very clearly how you refused to let go when you thought you were in the right,” she said. “What now? When it’s your turn, apologizing is humiliating?”

She took a slow step forward, gaze steady. “So I’m the one who’s supposed to be humiliated?”

She wasn’t someone they could brush aside with a few soft words.

“So many people are watching,” she continued, voice warm as honey. “If you don’t apologize, who knows what rumors will spread? I’m doing this for your own good. Isn’t that right?”

The threat was wrapped so neatly it almost looked like concern.

The Sect Master and the two elders felt it immediately. Their faces tightened, but they couldn’t lash out. Song Wan Ning had become unpredictable—she could explode at the slightest provocation, and the three of them still cared too much about face to gamble.

The elders looked to the Sect Master, waiting for him to decide.

The “outsiders” they had deliberately drawn over were still pointing, still whispering, their expressions sharp and ugly. The Sect Master’s jaw clenched.

The rope he’d thrown out had looped around his own neck.

He had no choice. If he refused to apologize now, the story would only be twisted worse once it spread.

He blurted, “Sorry. We were deceived too. We misunderstood you.”

The two elders hurried to follow, their apologies stiff and unwilling, but spoken all the same.

Song Wan Ning’s expression didn’t change. Only her smile deepened, dark and satisfied.

“Since you’ve apologized, we’ll let it go,” she said lightly. “But next time, Sect Master, make sure you know right from wrong. Don’t let scheming people use you.”

Her gaze slid meaningfully to the unconscious Ye Chu Xue.

The Sect Master’s face went livid. He said nothing. He simply turned and left with the others, retreating so quickly it bordered on ridiculous.

Bai Yang went with them, still worried about Ye Chu Xue’s injuries. Before leaving, he tried to speak to Song Wan Ning—perhaps to ask for medicine—but the cold glance she gave him shut his mouth. He left with a helpless, tight expression.

The black-market shopkeeper watched the group flee and laughed, anger and amusement mixing in her voice. “Those bastards. Weren’t they cursing people with such enthusiasm a moment ago?”

She snorted. “Now look at them—running faster than anyone.”

“Ignore them,” Song Wan Ning said, rolling her neck lazily. “They’re clowns.”

Her eyes drifted to “A Yue.”

From the beginning, she had chosen someone who looked uncannily like Mo Yuan. Sure enough, it had come in handy.

So what if Ye Chu Xue was clever?

Without evidence, everything was meaningless.

“Handle the rest,” Song Wan Ning said to the shopkeeper. “I’m going back to the Song Family for a bit.”

The Spirit Bead was still waiting.

*

On the flying boat back to the sect, the atmosphere turned heavy and brittle. Faces stayed dark. No one wanted to meet anyone else’s eyes.

With Bai Yang’s pills, Ye Chu Xue finally woke—weak, pale, lips bloodless. She lay in An Ze’s arms, barely able to move. Even blinking made dizziness and pain bloom behind her eyes.

The Sect Master tried to swallow his anger, but it stuck in his throat like a thorn. He turned on Ye Chu Xue the moment she regained consciousness.

“Martial Niece Ye,” he said coldly, “we understand you wanted to save Junior Brother Gu. But you can’t spout nonsense and accuse others at will.”

His voice sharpened. “In the end, you made all of us look bad.”

The two elders immediately piled on, not the least bit concerned about her injuries.

“Exactly. Because of you, we had to apologize to Song Wan Ning in front of everyone.”

“We lost all our dignity!”

“Martial Niece Ye, what you did was truly unfair.”

Complaint after complaint, blame after blame—sharp words thrown at a woman whose soul had just been injured.

Ye Chu Xue’s heart cooled with each one. Her gaze turned colder, harder, until resentment began to seep into the cracks.

Wasn’t it because Master was gravely ill and unable to get up, so they dared to treat her like this?

Fine.

They would regret it.

Seeing she didn’t respond, the three of them ran out of steam and fell into an awkward silence. The flying boat quieted, wind rushing past like distant surf.

Ye Chu Xue shut her eyes, exhaustion weighing on her bones.

Bai Yang’s betrayal. Master’s coma. Her injuries. The loss of her storage ring.

One thing after another, like a chain of bad luck tightening around her throat.

Since transmigrating here, she had never been this miserable. Even when she had been a five-spirit-root cultivator, she had never felt so stifled, so helpless.

She forced her eyes open and looked toward Bai Yang, who stood nearby on watch.

A sliver of hope—thin, stubborn—still remained.

Maybe he would believe her.

Fighting the dizziness, Ye Chu Xue tested him, voice hoarse. “Bai Yang… do you believe me? I’m telling the truth. Song Wan Ning must be the one behind it.”

What had started as suspicion had hardened into certainty.

Song Wan Ning had done it on purpose. Revenge.

And Ye Chu Xue had walked right into the trap, throwing everything she had into it.

Bai Yang frowned, confusion and disappointment twisting together. He looked down at her. “The auction host isn’t a demonic cultivator. And Master didn’t take your storage ring. Everyone saw it.”

His voice lowered, restrained but firm. “Why do you keep slandering her again and again?”

“I know a lot has happened lately,” he continued, “and you must resent my Master. But you don’t need to use methods like this.”

He hesitated, then added quietly, as if the words pained him. “Junior Sister Ye… you weren’t like this before.”