My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

After escorting the Prince and Princess out, Chen Yi left Jinya Pavilion.

The dusk had long faded, and the night was as dark as ink. Chen Yi did not ride a horse but instead chose to sit in a carriage. At the corner of the carriage, a torch burned brightly, and a guard dressed in embroidered attire served as the driver. With the whip raised, the carriage surged swiftly through the night.

Leaning back inside the carriage, Chen Yi lowered his eyes. The reason he wasn't riding a horse was simply because he wanted to think things through. When a person rides a horse, both the rider and the horse are in motion. In such a moment, the mind becomes an empty slate, unable to ponder deeply.

High above the treetops, Min Ning trusted him for the first time. Was it not romantic? How captivating. Chen Yi was ready to embrace this tender flow of emotions, yet Min Ning stopped him.

The reasoning behind it—Chen Yi was not clueless about it. On the contrary, he understood it all too well.

A lifetime together, with one person. Even though he'd entangled himself with countless women, harboring lingering threads of affection in his heart, every time he faced such moments, he couldn't help but yearn for it.

Put simply, even if he was indulgent in lust, his soul craved the purity of one-on-one love.

Yet his greed was boundless; he wanted to possess more, to hold all of them in his arms.

Thinking this, Chen Yi shook his head with a wry smile, leaning silently against the carriage as he gazed at the tranquil starry sky.

After a while, Chen Yi suddenly asked, "How long have you been here?"

In the pitch-black darkness, from the depths of the carriage, the face of a one-armed woman emerged, resembling a ghostly beauty.

Chen Yi turned his head and saw her.

Zhou Yitang sat still and said, "A long time."

"Then it hasn't been long."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"But I never know which words of yours are true."

"Not a single word was a lie."

Her voice was calm.

Chen Yi leaned closer to her, pondered for a long moment, and gently embraced her.

Zhou Yitang didn't resist; she didn't even glance at him.

Despite his triumph today, Chen Yi felt little desire. Resting his chin on Zhou Yitang's shoulder, he asked softly:

"Where is Yin Tingxue?"

"I already sent her back." Zhou Yitang replied.

Chen Yi wasn't at all surprised by this. For a Yin Sword Mountain Sword Armor, traveling dozens of miles back and forth in a short time was no challenge. His thoughts quickly returned to his own tangled musings.

Chen Yi quietly said:

"In our past life, it was you I shared one lifetime, two hearts with."

Zhou Yitang evaded the topic without answering.

"It's quite laughable, actually. In our past life, I harbored feelings for several women, yet in the end, it was still you."

Chen Yi paused briefly before continuing slowly:

"At the start of this life, I believed this game called 'Heavenly Realm' only followed a pure love route. But actually… could it be that this game doesn't exist at all?"

The night was silent, and the carriage raced toward the Capital City. In this starry night, a faint haze of confusion began to cloud his heart. Whenever moments like these came, who Chen Yi always thought of was Zhou Yitang. Even though this woman once tried to slay his three spiritual selves, now there lingered a rekindled flame within her.

The carriage swayed gently. The one-armed woman, as if understanding his words, responded, "Of course it doesn't exist."

Chen Yi wasn't surprised at her answer.

After all, thinking it over, if this truly were a game, wouldn't that mean there were other players? Wouldn't that imply that others could enter this world?

However, Zhou Yitang's offhanded answer brought forth an entirely new question.

Chen Yi lowered his eyebrows slightly and asked softly, "Then as the Bodhisattva's medicine revealed, I'm not the Outer Heaven Demon?"

"Yes and no." Her cryptic reply hung in the air.

Chen Yi absorbed her answer, understanding that she undoubtedly knew something. However, he also innately sensed that she wouldn't reveal the truth now.

Looking back, there might have been countless clues hidden in the shadows, submerged beneath swirling undercurrents, yet any attempt to piece them together yielded no answers.

Chen Yi wasn't one to dwell on such trivialities and focused instead on holding Zhou Yitang close, his hands refraining from wandering.

After a long pause, Zhou Yitang suddenly asked, "When it comes to Min Ning, have you stopped thinking about him?"

Chen Yi chuckled lightly and said, "Why would I think about the Spring and Autumn Sword Master when I have a Yin Sword Mountain Sword Armor in my arms?"

The one-armed woman replied with a cold sneer.

"Master Zhu Yu… actually, you also long for one lifetime, two hearts, don't you? There are times I think about it too, but it's merely a thought. No matter who they are, I can't bear to let any go."

Chen Yi spoke slowly.

Zhou Yitang seemed unsurprised. Chen Yi's warmth pressed against her. He leaned on her, sharing words he wouldn't say to anyone else. Between master and rebellious disciple, rare moments of peace existed.

Chen Yi said plainly, "Sometimes, I too can't understand. Throughout history, how many people yearned for pure love—'Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai,' 'Peony Pavilion,' 'The West Chamber'—all these tales praise the idea of divine couples. Meanwhile, the stories of three wives and four concubines hardly exist, or they remain obscure."

"From my perspective, the former seems better, more inspiring. Perhaps because having three wives and four concubines… that's possession, not love."

The one-armed woman glanced at him.

Those deep eyes seemed to ask: Is this rebellious disciple finally awakening?

One lifetime, two hearts…

After mulling over the thought, she revealed a hint of a secret, saying, "You are imprisoned by desire."

"So… what you always wanted to destroy was my baser self?" Chen Yi asked flatly.

Zhou Yitang did not deny it. She merely said, "I'm your master; naturally, I must teach you."

"I see."

Was he going to follow her to Yin Sword Mountain?

In the icy clarity of her gaze, a faint glimmer passed.

Chen Yi declared, word by word, "Then I'll simply love each of them in turn."

The former life's wife, nestled in his arms, seemed to shudder ever so slightly. She shot a frosty glare at Chen Yi.

Encased in the gentle night, Chen Yi, met with her cold stare, felt no offense. Instead, he said, "Master Zhu Yu, if you'd appeared earlier, it's not impossible that I would've followed you back. At that time… I felt so guilty inside. That place in my heart—it's always been reserved for you, just like you've always kept it."

"Self-indulgent." She retorted.

"Alright, alright, I'm self-indulgent," Chen Yi admitted casually, continuing with a confession-like tone, "In the end, it's all because of the little fox. When she stepped out to marry, my heart wavered. I don't know why, but she ended up standing in the same place as you in my heart. I really like her; I love her. Telling me not to feel this way—I can't do it. It's all her fault, entirely her fault. When I return, I'll bully her just to show you."

Zhou Yitang, hearing his words, had a complicated expression in her gaze. After a long while, she corrected:

"It's your fault."

"...I can't very well let her bully me to show you, can I?" Chen Yi shrugged.

Zhou Yitang scoffed at the shamelessness of her rebellious disciple.

Holding her, Chen Yi exuded infinite tenderness. He seemed to be speaking to himself—or perhaps to his former-life wife—when he murmured, "I've decided. I'll have one-on-one pure love with each of them—one lifetime, two hearts for each."

The one-armed woman didn't reply; she simply closed her eyes, letting his words drift past her ears.

Sometimes, the deepest words in one's heart could only be spoken to her; others wouldn't understand. No one else would grasp the meanings—only her. She knew what Chen Yi wanted to say, and also what truly lingered in his heart.

Human emotions change, and close friends often turn into strangers. Yet this couple has always understood who the other is, inside and out. Common sayings claim that spouses should respect one another, that wives should be accommodating, virtuous, and docile. In theory, Zhou Yitang is far from being a good wife. But upon reflection, why demand such qualities in a spouse? These traits are merely surface-level desires—they mask a deeper wish for the wife to comfort the husband's confusion and pain. What manifests outwardly as virtue and docility fundamentally denotes understanding and solace.

Chen Yi always needed her, and she always needed this unruly disciple. The two were strikingly alike in many ways, though she was far more devoted. With her presence, Chen Yi never had to ask in solitude: Who understands me?

In the Capital City, snow began to fall.

Back at home, the little fox—whom Zhou Yitang had long since sent back—sat at the door, cupping her face, and sneezed.