C17 Qing Lianer

Nangong Fan returned to his wooden cabin and settled onto a wooden bench. He retrieved the Black Dragon Sword from his ring, along with the Black Dragon Scales. Even sheathed within the dragon scale scabbard, the sword's edge emitted a subtle sharpness, quivering slightly and emitting a soft hum reminiscent of a dragon's purr.

The black scales, streaked with white, possessed immense magical power, resembling a black hole that swallowed any light that drew near. Nangong Fan approached the two spiritual items, channeling the slightly enhanced white spiritual energy from his dantian.

"Finally, I have the time to refine these two treasures," Nangong Fan thought, his eyes brimming with satisfaction. For cultivators, possessing supreme grade spiritual artifacts was a source of great contentment. They didn't require immense initial power; what mattered was the quality of the material and the potential for advancement. Such artifacts could accompany them for a lifetime, negating the need for frequent replacements. Nurturing a spiritual artifact was a delicate process—why would one willingly diminish their own combat capabilities?

Magical treasures were simple to create but spiritual artifacts were a challenge to perfect. Magical treasures were crudely fashioned from spiritual materials and then imbued with spiritual energy by powerful individuals, endowing them with formidable attack capabilities. They allowed those with lesser strength to unleash potent assaults. Despite usage limitations, cultivators cherished them, for a formidable magical treasure could be a lifesaver in critical moments.

Spiritual artifacts, however, were forged through the crucible of a thousand flames, meticulously crafted from the finest heavenly materials. They resonated with one's internal spiritual energy, amplifying it to produce force beyond the body's natural limits.

These artifacts could expand or contract and be concealed within the dantian, nourished daily by the wielder's will-infused spiritual energy. Over time, using a spiritual artifact would become as natural as moving one's own limb.

At that moment, Nangong Fan was engaged in the process of refining these two spiritual artifacts, integrating them into his dantian. It seemed likely that for the foreseeable future, these two exceptional spiritual weapons would be his companions as he wandered the world.

"I feel like this sword has gotten a bit stronger." Nangong Fan was engrossed in refining the spiritual weapons when he sensed a slight difference. It seemed just a tad more powerful than when he first acquired it.

...

The spiritual weapons' willingness to enter Nangong Fan's interspatial ring was a clear sign of acceptance of their new master.

In less than two hours.

Both spiritual weapons had been preliminarily refined, transforming into two streams of light that coursed into his body and settled within his Dantian.

"The Black Dragon Sword is actually a medium grade spiritual weapon. The hilt is truly forged from Black Dragon bone. The scales on the scabbard are genuine Black Dragon scales as well. Such materials are exceedingly rare, yet they possess only this level of quality. There's definitely more to it that I'm not aware of," Nangong Fan couldn't contain his excitement. With the spiritual weapon integrated into his body, it revealed its most fundamental aspects to him without reservation. His current power wasn't sufficient to fully uncover its secrets, but even the features he could discern were enough to make others green with envy. "The Black Dragon Scale Armor is also incredibly rare, crafted from the reverse scale of a Black Dragon. It's an uncommon inner armor, and just unlocking a fraction of it reveals its medium grade spiritual weapon status."

In the entire Black Family, there were fewer than five medium grade spiritual weapons, all of which were claimed. Now, Nangong Fan possessed two such weapons, one offensive and one defensive, forming a complete set. If word got out, it would undoubtedly stir up a storm.

Nangong Fan composed himself and raised his eyes to the self-updating calendar on the wall.

— June 15th.

"Is it the fifteenth already? Qing Ling'er is due to leave the Qing Family and take her boat out on the lake at the mountain's peak. It's been a month since I've seen her." A gleam of delight shone in Nangong Fan's eyes. He could practice his cultivation, rejoice in his new spiritual weapon, and, by a stroke of luck, it was also the day his beloved took her customary boat ride. Indeed, it was a day of triple joy. "Today is truly a day of added blessings."

He fondly recalled that day when he was sixteen, on June 15th.

He had inadvertently overheard his peers from the Black family dismissively calling him useless behind his back. He had always considered them friends, and the sting of betrayal weighed heavily on his heart. Seeking solace, he left the Black estate and aimlessly made his way toward the mountain's summit that loomed over the mansion.

The path was treacherous, and the mountain trail proved challenging to navigate.

Upon reaching the peak, dusk had begun to envelop the land. The sun's last rays clung desperately to the sky, while an eager full moon ascended to its zenith.

The summit was lofty, giving the impression that one could effortlessly pluck the moon from the heavens like a disc.

It was remarkably flat, as if a celestial being had cleaved it with a sword.

At the center lay a lake, its waters tranquil and clear enough to see straight to the bottom. The lake occupied much of the mountaintop, and someone with a taste for leisure had even constructed a dock on the shore closest to the descent.

The fifteenth of each month was the prime time for moonlit lake excursions, yet the spot remained mostly deserted.

The esteemed young lady of the Qing family, renowned throughout Dragonstone, was known to frequent this place on the fifteenth. By unspoken agreement, no one dared to trouble the Qing family.

Dragonstone was currently a battleground for the Black and Ao families, while the Jin and Huo families joined forces to dominate another faction, creating a delicate balance of power. No one wished to recklessly involve the enigmatic Qing family, especially not as adversaries. Besides, the moon on the sixteenth was hardly inferior to that on the fifteenth, and those who fancied themselves sophisticated had no cause for complaint.

A gentle breeze skimmed the lake's surface, creating a dance of shimmering ripples. It carried a refreshing breath of air that dispersed the summer night's heat.

This lake was renowned in Dragonstone, yet it was not a destination for the common folk.

For ordinary people, merely gaining access to the Dragonstone mountain range was a formidable challenge, let alone ascending to the summit for a lakeside retreat.

On the lake, a young girl floated in a boat. She wore a white gauze hat adorned with an embroidered green lotus. A veil of green gauze cascaded from the brim, concealing her expressive eyes while revealing her delicate nose. Her lips, just beneath her nose, parted slightly as her melodious voice resonated across the lake.

The full moon on the fifteenth shone like a disc, its reflection rippling across the lake's surface. Bathed in the moon's pristine light, the young girl appeared ethereal, a celestial being untouched by the mortal realm. Her form seemed to radiate a pure white glow, echoing the moon above and its twin in the water.

Clad in a green gown, her chest rose gently, reminiscent of unripe apples. With a slender waist, her pale, delicate arms reached into the lake, her graceful fingers stirring the water and sending droplets into a dance that cast a dreamlike haze around her.

A joyful smile graced her lovely face, delighting in the splendor before her. Around her waist, a white sash was tied, its knot resembling a delicate flower. Her legs were as white and straight as snow, and she wore shoes that brought to mind the tender bloom of a green lotus.

Her song seemed to drift from a distant realm, ethereal and hauntingly beautiful. "In dreams, petals fall, while moonlight graces reality. Gods tread the earth, demons stir amongst us. Ancient generals returned wrapped in death's embrace, and today, deities dream of past and present. Jiang Gong fishes with hope, while the Blue Emperor soars, humanity flourishing. Contemplating the past brings sorrow, amidst the wind, flowers, and snowy nights, not to be shared with strangers."

The song carried an enigmatic depth, yet it might as well have been empty, for in recent years, no one could discern its hidden melodies.

Yet, as the fairy's voice wove through the air, the enchanting sound lent the song an otherworldly beauty, prompting a sigh of wonder that such music could only belong to the heavens.

At that moment, Hei Ze was deaf to all but the wind, his focus solely on the path ahead, oblivious to the road behind or the beauty that lay within the lake. He trudged on, a shell of a man, his heart teetering on the brink of death, with no capacity to attend to the trivialities of life.

In his distraction, Hei Ze's foot slipped, and with a "plop," he plunged into the depths of the lake.

The icy waters of the lake jolted him awake from his stupor. Desperately, he tried to call for help, but night had fallen, and the lake was perched atop the mountain range owned by the Hao clan—how could anyone be nearby?

In that moment, a white ribbon stretched across time and space, wrapping around him and depositing him onto a small wooden boat in the middle of the lake.

Drenched, he found himself face-to-face with a stunningly beautiful girl.

She possessed an elegance that seemed otherworldly, reminiscent of a celestial being. He gazed at her, utterly transfixed by the vision before him.

Her laughter burst forth like a vibrant flower revealing its unique allure. It was only after she playfully chided him with a "Fool" that he began to regain his senses.

Together, they glided across the water in the boat. The girl, not one for frequent conversation, seemed to have an endless stream of thoughts to share.

A delicate scent emanated from her, tickling his nose—a rosy flush spreading across his cheeks as it filled his senses and heart.

That day, his heart pounded relentlessly, as if it had cast aside the sorrows of past lives, captivated solely by the enchanting girl before him.

She spoke of the tedium of her daily cultivation practices, while the guileless man shared his own frustrations—considered worthless in the art of cultivation and shunned, despite his noble birthright, with others speaking ill of him behind his back.

He listened to her, and she listened to him. Amidst the girl's gentle and beautiful voice, everything seemed perfect. They shared everything with each other, their hearts drawing ever closer.

The girl was named Qing Lian'er, the sole legitimate daughter of the Qing family. Four years prior, at the tender age of ten, she could no longer contain her power and began to condense her Qi within her Dantian.

Her talent was exceptional, while he was seen as fundamentally flawed. Yet, they conversed as if they had a never-ending stream of words, seamlessly connecting without a hint of hesitation or distance.

That night, the moonlight seemed to shine with an extra measure of beauty in the young man's eyes.

Hei Ze's encounter with her at the age of fourteen was far from glamorous, but it remained a treasured memory, closely guarded in the depths of his heart.

That evening, he stumbled back to the Hei residence, his face bruised and battered.

Earlier that night, three acquaintances had ambushed him, bluntly warning him to steer clear of Qing Lian'er.

It might have been out of cowardice or perhaps a sense of inferiority.

Nonetheless, on the fifteenth of each month, he would ascend to the peak, no longer to converse but to stand at a distance in the dense woods. There, he would watch the three men interact, silently observing the young girl from afar.

Like clockwork, the young girl would arrive at the lakeside summit as dusk fell, never once failing to appear. Yet, without her enchanting songs gracing the surface of the lake, the place, akin to paradise, seemed to lose some of its vibrancy.

...

"Fire Wushuang, Jin Taiman, Ao Bing, are you three ready to face the consequences?"

Nangong Fan strode out of the Black Mansion with a fierce determination, utterly indifferent to the murmurs questioning his sanity from the mansion's inhabitants.

Clearly, word of his upcoming duel with the Black Jiao had spread throughout the Black Mansion.

Unfazed, Nangong Fan had only one goal in mind: to return to the lakeside summit and seek out the beauty that had been etched in his heart for three years.

No longer the timid man he once was, he was now ready to confront any hindrance head-on.

This time, no one could stand in his way. He would vanquish gods and Buddhas alike if they dared to block his path!