Martial Arts Secret Realm: Only I Can Know the Plot?

When Blood Saber Ancestor woke up, the ice cave was very quiet.

It's too quiet.

It was so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat, the sound of water droplets falling on the ice wall, and the echoes of the howling wind and snow in the distance. This quiet was wrong—there should be the sound of another person breathing, the occasional sobs of that girl, and the sound of Di Yun's clothes rubbing against the ice as he tossed and turned.

There was nothing there.

Blood Blade Ancestor suddenly opened his eyes.

The fire had died down, leaving only a pile of grayish-white embers that glowed faintly red in the darkness. He glanced at the ice cave by that light—it was empty. Di Yun was gone, Shui Sheng was gone, and only a loose rope remained on the ice pillar that had once bound Shui Sheng, hanging there like a dead snake.

Blood Blade Ancestor stood up.

His movements were slow, as if he were confirming something. He walked to the icicle and reached out to touch the knot. The knot was untied, not broken—it was untied carefully, even patiently.

His gaze shifted to the depths of the ice cave.

There was an ice wall there, its color different from the rest—a bluish-white, shimmering with a faint light. There was a small hole in the ice wall, just big enough for one person to crawl through. The edges of the hole were jagged, showing signs of recent chiseling. Scattered on the floor of the ice cave were broken pieces of ice, gleaming coldly in the darkness.

Blood Blade Ancestor squatted down, picked up a piece of broken ice, and squeezed it in his hand.

Ice shards dug into his fingertips, but he didn't let go.

He stared at the hole for a long time, his expression changing several times—first confusion, then anger, and finally something indescribable, as if something had stabbed his heart.

He could accept that Di Yun would sleep with Shui Sheng first.

He could even accept Di Yun telling him after he had slept with her, "Grandmaster, this girl is mine, don't touch her."

None of that matters.

Young people are naturally attracted to women and women; it's only natural.

He was the same way when he was young. If he set his sights on a girl, he'd sleep with her no matter what, and once he slept with her, she was his, and no one else was allowed to touch her. He was actually pleased that Di Yun had this kind of drive—it showed that the kid had guts and wasn't a coward.

But Di Yun ran away.

They ran away together with Shui Sheng.

It wasn't stealing food, it wasn't striking first, it was betrayal.

He rescued Di Yun from Shui Sheng and Wang Xiaofeng, treated his leg, fed him, taught him the Blood Saber Sect's kung fu, and even gave him the woman he had his eye on. Despite all that, Di Yun still ran away.

They ran away cleanly, without even saying goodbye.

Blood Blade Ancestor stood up and slammed the piece of ice in his hand onto the ground.

"You little rascal." His voice was forced out of his throat, hoarse like sandpaper scraping against stone. "The old monk was so good to you, and this is how you repay him?"

He paced back and forth in the ice cave, his boots crunching on the broken ice. Each sound was heavy, as if he were struggling against something.

He could be alone. He had lived on the snow-capped mountains for decades and was used to solitude. But that was before—before he took Di Yun seriously, or anyone else seriously. He didn't need company, didn't need anyone to talk to, didn't need anyone by his side. He only needed his knife, his ice cave, and his snow-capped mountains.

But these past twenty days have been different.

From the moment he rescued Di Yun from Sheng Di's clutches, from the moment he placed Di Yun behind Shui Sheng on horseback and watched him clumsily grab the girl's waist, from the moment he shared dried meat with Di Yun in the ice cave and watched him wolf it down—he changed.

He couldn't explain what had changed.

Perhaps it was the sound of someone breathing beside him while he was meditating at night that made him feel that the ice cave wasn't so cold.

Perhaps it was when he was distributing the dried meat that there was someone else waiting for him to break open the steamed bun, making him feel that the snow mountain wasn't so empty.

Perhaps it was the look in Di Yun's eyes when he occasionally looked up at him—not fear, not hatred, but a silly, somewhat dependent look, like a puppy looking at its owner.

In all his years of life, this was the first time someone had looked at him like that.

Blood Blade Ancestor stopped and stood in the center of the ice cave, looking up at the bowl-sized opening above him. Grayish-white light shone through the opening, illuminating his face, revealing the deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the white hair at his temples, and an expression on his face that he himself had never seen before.

It's not anger.

It is loneliness.

A kind of loneliness that he thought he had long been used to, but found that he could not get used to at all.

"The old monk can't stay here alone," he whispered, as if talking to himself, or perhaps to the snow-capped mountain. "He'll go crazy if he stays here alone."

He walked to the ice wall, squatted down, and crawled into the hole.

The crevice was narrow, and his shoulders, wider than Di Yun's, rubbed painfully against the ice walls on either side. He didn't stop, gritting his teeth as he crawled forward. His monk's robe was torn in several places by the icicles, and blood seeped out, leaving dark red streaks on the ice surface.

He climbed for a long time.

By the time he emerged from the ice crevice and stood on the snow, it was already broad daylight. The snowstorm had lessened compared to the day before, and visibility had improved considerably; he could see the outlines of distant mountain peaks.

He looked down at the snow.

There are footprints.

Two sets of footprints, one deep and one shallow. The deep one belongs to Di Yun; his broken leg hasn't fully healed, so he walks with a limp, each step sinking deep into the ground. The shallow one belongs to Shui Sheng; her steps are small and short, and she occasionally stumbles, as if she's slipping on snow.

Blood Blade Ancestor squatted down and carefully examined the direction of the footprints—south, towards the mountain hollow.

He stood up and followed the footprints.

He hadn't walked far when he suddenly stopped.

The footprints became disordered a short distance ahead—there were traces of circling, traces of stopping, and the footprints of a third person. The third person's footprints were very light, with large gaps and even strides, indicating that the person had practiced martial arts and was quite skilled.

Blood Saber Ancestor's pupils contracted slightly.

Someone has come to meet Di Yun.

He quickened his pace and followed the footprints around a ravine.

Then he stopped.

A person was standing on the snow ahead.

He wore a long white robe, a long sword hanging at his waist, and his hair was tied up with a wooden hairpin. He wasn't particularly tall, but he stood very straight, like a pine tree, motionless in the wind and snow.

His face was young, but his eyes were not. There was something indescribable in those eyes—not murderous intent, not intimidating power, but like a well, bottomless.

Blood Blade Ancestor didn't recognize the face, but he recognized the eyes.

He had only ever seen such eyes on one person—himself.

My younger self.

It was precisely because of his composure that allowed him to suppress his madness that he was able to break through the environment of the Blood Blade Sect and become the fourth generation patriarch.

That person saw him too.

The two people stood facing each other, a dozen steps apart. The wind blew between them, swirling up snowflakes that formed a thin veil, partially obscuring their figures.