Farewell, Immortal Lord

No one ever told Zhao Nanqing that the honest man who had lived incognito with her for most of her life was actually Weicheng Shan, the greatest sword immortal in the cultivation world.

She looks at the man before her, his face cold and his gaze unfamiliar. No wonder he hasn't aged in decades, while her hair has turned white.

At the gate stand his fellow disciples, here to take him home, and a beautiful young junior sister. Zhao Nanqing can't bring herself to say a word to stop him.

All she can say is, "Safe travels, Immortal Lord."

*

Mortals live only a few short decades before old age, sickness, and death. They forget everything in the blink of an eye. Why dwell on a fleeting relationship?

Those who cultivate should be with their fellow cultivators.

During the years after he successfully weathered his tribulation and left Qingzhu Town, Weicheng Shan kept telling himself just that.

But when he was just one step away from quelling the Cangyuan turmoil, he received word that Zhao Nanqing had died of illness. He couldn't help but panic, and his Dao heart was shattered.

One moment of weakness sent the sword immortal plunging into the Cangyuan Sea. From then on, the world had one more mad and obsessive demon lord, and one fewer upright, noble beacon of the righteous path.

*

Reborn in a new body, Zhao Nanqing finds the whole thing absurd. This old man who looks nearly eighty claims to be her husband and wants to teach her swordsmanship and cultivation?

Is he crazy? Why would she give up the best years of her life to live like an ascetic monk?

Zhao Nanqing grabs her bag and runs, as far away as she can.