Chapter Seventeen: Missed Opportunities

Day by day, time slipped away. In three more days, it would be the anniversary of Silver Fox’s death—a date known to only a select few, among whom Chu Suye and Guo Xinyu were counted. They had made all preparations in advance to pay their respects in the woods where Silver Fox rested. Before dawn, Chu Suye and Guo Xinyu set out together.

Unexpectedly, a childish voice, clear as a silver bell, called out from behind, “Brother Suye, where are you going? Why are you keeping secrets from Ling’er? You can’t leave me behind, I want to go with you!”

Turning around, Chu Suye saw Ling’er’s young face still clouded with sleep, her eyelids drooping. She must not have slept well all night. Comforting Ling’er was always a troublesome affair. Guo Xinyu could only rub his forehead helplessly, watching his friend handle this tiresome matter.

Chu Suye approached, gently caressing Ling’er’s cheek, and spoke softly, “Be good, Ling’er. I promise to come back to you within seven days. Don’t make a fuss, hurry back to your room and sleep, or you won’t be a pretty girl.”

Ling’er’s large, watery eyes—pure, untainted—stared at Chu Suye with doubt.

Her eyes were the clearest Chu Suye had ever seen. That first glance years ago had moved him to rescue her. She was only nine, had watched her family slaughtered before her, powerless to act and left sobbing—if not for his timely appearance, she might have perished as well.

Seeing her hesitation, Chu Suye feigned annoyance, brushing aside her bangs. “So even Ling’er doesn’t believe her brother’s words anymore?”

“No, I do!” Ling’er, pure-hearted, feared he was truly angry, and shook her head anxiously, dreading that Chu Suye would scold her. Her brother had never been angry before, always gentle and smiling. Only three months ago had she witnessed his first outburst, so terrifying that it seemed as though he had become another person entirely, a memory that still haunted her.

“Then Ling’er will be good and wait for her brother to return,” Chu Suye said, patting her head indulgently. He remembered how lost she had looked when they first met, her eyes full of panic. She was so young, and yet had survived such horror.

“Alright, but you must come back soon,” Ling’er replied, her eyes brimming with tears as she reluctantly turned away.

Chu Suye swiftly mounted his horse, and together with Guo Xinyu, rode toward Silver Fox’s grave.

For four years, they had visited Silver Fox’s resting place without fail. In that time, Chu Suye had grown into a man of nineteen, vowing to avenge his family and Silver Fox’s as well.

Behind the main gate, Ling’er watched them leave, tears flowing uncontrollably down her cheeks, though her lips curled into a faint smile. She wiped away the tears, a genuine smile breaking through—a joy that shone even in her eyes.

“Why, why?!” Silver Yao’s furious cry echoed. She had trained ceaselessly for three months, expending all her strength, yet she could not break the barrier and reach the second stage. Was she truly incapable? The third stage seemed even more unattainable—what could she do? Was she to give up?

No! She would never give up.

Seated cross-legged on the great black marble at the center of the pool—her mother’s place of cultivation—she had remained there for three months. It felt as if her mother’s spirit was always by her side, urging her onward. Yet she could not break through, still lingering at the first stage. The thought of disappointing her mother was unbearable, and the lack of progress gnawed at her. Should she retreat into seclusion again?

But rumors said that the wretched emperor would arrive in the Martial Capital in half a month, seeking to win over the only force still capable of resisting him. There was no more time for hesitation—she had to act.

All night, Silver Yao sat atop the marble, thinking, sleepless.

The next morning, warm sunlight filtered through the leaves, falling on her chilled body. Having spent the night on cold stone, the sun’s embrace was a comfort. She opened her eyes, their depths hiding all the world’s grace. Looking up at the sky, she leapt to Silver Fox’s grave.

Clad in white, she knelt before the tomb, took three sticks of incense from her side, and lit them gently. Holding them reverently above her head, she murmured prayers, no doubt telling her mother of recent trials.

At last, the tears she had held back spilled over. Her eyes reddened as she sobbed, all her pretenses of strength collapsing. Her long sigh seemed to carry endless sorrow.

When Guo Xinyu and Chu Suye reached the foot of the mountain, they dismounted, then used lightness skill to ascend, walking the final stretch in silence as a mark of respect.

Their faces were solemn; this was no ordinary ritual, but a moment of great significance.

Guilt flickered in Chu Suye’s eyes—guilt for failing to save Silver Fox, for four years without news of Yao’er, for his own powerlessness.

Guo Xinyu, less weighed by sorrow, surveyed the forest. He had heard reports of a white-clad woman seen deep in these woods. Carefully, he probed the surroundings for any trace of her. Perhaps she was Silver Fox’s daughter, the mysterious young woman he had longed to meet. Regrettably, he still did not know her name.

He had intercepted this information himself, eager to meet Silver Fox’s daughter alone and discover what surprises she might hold. Thus, Chu Suye could only remain lost in his own grief.

Stepping on dry leaves that crackled underfoot, Silver Yao, already alert to their presence, focused intently, her brows furrowed with impatience at the approaching footsteps. She slipped away quietly, unwilling to stir up trouble. There were more pressing matters in the Martial Capital.

Since her mother’s death, someone had come every year on her memorial day to pay respects. She assumed it was the same visitors this time. Knowing they meant no harm and having watched them from afar before, Silver Yao felt safe leaving first.

Yet, once again, she missed the chance to meet them, only catching a fleeting glimpse of their retreating figures before slipping away.

She simply could not risk revealing her identity.