Don't farm, cultivate immortality!

Gradually, Yan Huai'an also remembered some people's names. The tree spirit said, "It's been so many years, but you haven't changed at all. They all treat you like a god and even built a temple for you."

In reality, she was sleeping longer and longer, and she started to feel cold, but she didn't seem to care.

Many years later, when things calmed down outside the valley, the demons rarely came anymore.

She thought the tree spirit was amazing; it had actually turned the valley into a valley of a hundred flowers.

The tree spirit accomplished all the things it wanted to do.

But what about her?

What does she want to do?

She didn't know...

The person who raised her only taught her how to wield a sword and how to circulate her inner energy to resist the coldness she was born with.

She was someone who only knew how to wield a sword; she had killed not only demons but also humans, all for the sake of survival.

She seemed to live only to survive, but when she remained in the valley, it was as if she had given up even the will to live...

Watching the tree spirit transform that barren valley into the Valley of a Hundred Flowers she knew today, a sudden longing stirred within her...

She didn't know what that longing was, but she made up her mind to leave that peaceful valley.

She picked up her sword and left to continue what she hadn't finished many years ago.

She began carving words on bamboo strips to communicate with as many people as possible.

She practiced swordsmanship every day and no longer slacked off.

She vanquished demons and monsters, no longer standing idly by, and tried her best to save those she could.

She encountered many difficult situations; some people were overly enthusiastic, while others stirred up trouble.

She tried cooking and painting.

She took what she found back with her, slowly suppressed her coldness, and let her hair turn back to black.

During this time, she never went back to that valley, feeling that it was not a place that belonged to her.

She searched for things one by one, but the more she searched, the more confused she felt.

What is she looking for?

It seems I haven't found anything...

She still couldn't say things like, "I want to take these people in," or "I want to name this valley," like the tree spirit.

Chapter 237 The Quest (Part 2)

"This is something that Sister Yan should decide for herself."

Zhuang Xing's words echoed in Yan Huai'an's ears.

Yes, she doesn't need to listen to others anymore; she should decide where she goes herself.

She then thought of other things, another period of time that she cherished.

She lived in that little house during that snowy winter.

That winter was but a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things she had experienced, much shorter than the days spent in the valley.

But she still remembers the strange feeling when the baby held her finger.

She wasn't unfamiliar with children; in her long life, far longer than most, she had seen many adorable children. But only this one would be so close to her. Other babies would usually cry loudly if she held them, but that child wouldn't. Not only would he not cry, but he would also grab her finger and snuggle in her arms.

Perhaps it was because she rescued the child from the tiger demon.

She turned her head and looked at Zhuang Xing's face.

Before my eyes, it seemed as if the sun was shining brightly.

That year, the boy, still quite young, said with a big smile, "Sister, try this."

A steaming cup of tea was placed in front of Yan Huai'an with a clinking sound. Before she could reach for it, a small saucer was placed on the table.

She traveled all over the country, but had never seen the pastries on that plate.

She smelled a unique sweet aroma, so she picked up a small piece with her chopsticks and put it in her mouth.

It had a soft and fluffy texture, and it was warm when she tasted it. She could taste the honey; it was sweet.

"Sister, what do you think?" the boy asked, peeking out.

Yan Huai'an wanted to say something different to praise the pastry, but she couldn't think of any other words. She could only say, "Very good," in her limited vocabulary.

She didn't want to appear so cold, but she didn't know how to put her feelings into words and tell others.

Will children remember things from the past when they grow up?

She didn't know, but even though she didn't say a word of greeting that day, the boy just grinned at her.

"This is called a cake. It's made with flour, eggs, and honey. Flour is wheat flour."

"cake..."

She looked at the small plate in her hand and silently memorized those two words.

"It's called a cake because it's made with eggs and flour," the boy said enthusiastically beside her. "Actually, it would taste even better if it had cow's milk or goat's milk, but we don't have any in the village, so I just made do."

"If you like it, I'll make it for you again tomorrow. But we don't have much flour left, so I probably won't be able to make it many more times."

...

During those spring days, it only rained lightly when she came, and the following days were sunny.

The bamboo grove outside the house had been cut down by someone, and only the broken ends of bamboo could be seen outside the courtyard. The place was now empty and spacious, and the room, which used to receive little sunlight, was now brightly lit.

Fortunately, the spring sunshine is not harsh, but rather warm.

She sat at the tea table, looking at the paintings hanging on the wall.

Those were drawings she made herself. In the years after leaving that house, she would occasionally think of that unusual winter.

Sometimes she wanted to go back and visit, but when she did, she didn't know what to say. She thought that she had been gone for several years, and that child must have grown up a lot by now.

The paintings are all hanging well on the wall, without being covered in dust.

She wasn't sure if she had expressed herself well, but the boy said he really liked the paintings.

The boy sat across from her and slowly told her about the years she had missed.

The voice was childish, but it warmed Yan Huai'an just like the sunlight streaming into the room.

Actually, Yan Huai'an wanted to stay in that room a little longer, but she was afraid that if she stayed for a few more days, she would become lazy again.

Before leaving, she taught the boy her sword techniques.

It wasn't to teach him how to kill; I just hoped he could live a peaceful and healthy life.

The person who taught her swordsmanship told her that no matter where you are, a skilled person will not be bullied, and the skill that will prevent you from being bullied is one that is obvious to others, such as the sword you carry at your waist.

Yan Huai'an relied on that sword to get through many days and nights, so she taught the boy the only sword skill she knew.

Compared to the baby who could only babble when he was young, the boy has grown up a lot. He said he wants to go out and see the world, and he also wants to slay demons and monsters like his sister.

Even that child found what she wanted to do, but she still hasn't found anything?

Inside the main hall, Yan Huai'an grasped a lock of his hair.

The air inside the hall was cold; she had lived on the mountain for a hundred years and was already used to the cold.

"You're staying?"

A voice came from the painting behind them.

She was still confused and couldn't find her way.

But when the voice asked, the answer became clear naturally.

“I want to go outside…” Yan Huai’an looked at Ying Long.

“Then go,” said Yinglong in the painting. “You should rest here for a few days and recover your strength. When you leave, you don’t need to come to see me.”

"Understood," Yan Huai'an replied.

The girl fell silent, concealing her blue vertical pupils, and stood behind the painting.

Zhuang Xing breathed a sigh of relief. Before he could say anything to persuade him, Yan Huai'an had already made his decision.

He felt that the female warrior was different from before. Her face was still expressionless, but it seemed to have become softer.

Yan Huai'an took out a hair tie and tied his hair up as he used to, then walked out of the hall.

Zhuang Xing felt a hand placed on his forehead and gently rub it.

He turned his head to look at him, and Yan Huai'an looked at his face. Although he didn't speak, he could feel a silent concern.

Perhaps they were worried that he still had some unresolved problems.

"Sister, I have already learned the method of raising ghosts," Zhuang Xing said with a smile. "Xiao An is being nurtured in that locust tree, so he won't be a problem anymore."

"Mm," Yan Huai'an replied softly.

The two walked out of the main hall, their footsteps becoming very quiet.

Outside the palace, the snow was white and the bare trees looked like they were blooming with white flowers. Footprints of all sizes were left in the snow.

Inside the hall, the young girl gazed at the open doors and asked, puzzled, "Little White, why doesn't Sister Yan want to stay?"

“Xiaoqing, you are not her, so of course you don’t know what she is thinking,” the boy said calmly.

"But I raised her."

“You only did this one thing, and that Taoist priest knows her better than you do.”

"That's true."

...

(I'm really sorry, I'm still suffering from severe writer's block, so I'll only be writing one chapter today.)

Chapter 238 Yinglong's Invitation