Yun Jianchu had already dashed into the room, her footsteps quick and frantic. Her voice broke with a mix of sorrow and desperation as she cried out, "Little bald donkey! Are you really dead?" Her tone was raw, piercing the air with grief. Earlier, when she had been residing within Nanli’s body, Cinian had always been a constant presence—hovering around, offering his quiet companionship. Truth be told, she’d grown accustod to having him nearby, his familiar figure a steady anchor in her chaotic existence. The sudden news that he might not survive struck her like a thunderbolt, unleashing a torrent of sadness that erupted into wails so loud it seed she might lift the roof off the building.
But as Yun Jianchu threw herself toward the bed, she froze. Cinian was still breathing—faintly, yes, but alive. She blinked, stunned. "What’s going on? He’s not dead?" she muttered, her voice wavering between relief and confusion.
Shandu, usually the epito of patience and composure, had reached his limit. He stepped forward and gently but firmly pulled Yun Jianchu back from the bedside. "Master Chuyun," he said with a hint of exasperation, "with Master Nanli here, how could Master die so easily?" His tone carried a quiet confidence, a reminder of the skilled hands working to preserve Cinian’s life.
Yun Jianchu glanced around the room and noticed the intricate layers of talisman arrays shimring faintly in the air. Her knowledge was limited, and her mory even less reliable—she couldn’t begin to guess what these arrays were ant to do. But that didn’t matter. All she needed to know was that they were powerful, and that was enough to reassure her. She pursed her lips and shot back, "Then who was it screaming so pitifully just now, misleading like that?"
Shandu straightened, his expression earnest. "Master showed so signs of consciousness, and I got excited and shouted. How could that be called pitiful wailing?" he countered, defending his outburst.
Their brief exchange turned into a mild squabble, but it gave Siheng enough ti to piece together the situation. Realizing he hadn’t arrived too late, a trace of relief softened his tense features. Nanli, who had been sitting off to the side to rest, caught sight of Siheng’s arrival. She stood up abruptly, her eyes widening in surprise. The exertion of her spiritual energy had left her pale, and her unfamiliarity with her now-prominent pregnant belly made her steps unsteady. She stumbled slightly, her balance faltering.
Yun Yubai, standing nearby, instinctively reached out to steady her. But before his hand could connect, Siheng was at her side in an instant, catching her with a firm, gentle grip. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low with concern as he supported her.
Yun Yubai quickly withdrew his hand, chastising himself inwardly. No more letting the mories of the Glassy Bottle affect , he thought, determined to shake off the lingering emotions tied to that past. This ti, his heart felt oddly calm—no bitterness, no ache.
Nanli steadied herself and shook her head lightly. "I’m fine," she said, then tilted her head with curiosity. "You’re out already? Don’t worry—I’ve been working on a few talisman arrays myself. They’ll buy Cinian a bit more ti."
Siheng’s gaze softened as he looked at her. "I finished learning and ca out. A’Li, you’ve worked hard," he said sincerely. He could see the toll it had taken on her—the dark circles under her eyes, the faint weariness in her posture. She clearly hadn’t rested properly in days.
Nanli blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "You an you’ve mastered the first technique?"
"No," Siheng replied with a faint smile. "I’ve mastered them all."
"Even the second technique?" Nanli’s eyes widened in astonishnt. She clapped him on the shoulder, her voice brimming with admiration. "Impressive! You learned it all in just two days. You’ve knocked Yining down a peg—he’s no longer the second-fastest. Now you are!"
Siheng’s brow twitched as a sudden thought struck him. He studied her for a mont before asking, "Are you ’Too Weak To Sleep’?" The na had surfaced in his mind from the fragnts of mory tied to the technique, and sothing about her hands—those deft, familiar movents—clicked into place. Her words only confird his suspicion: she, too, had entered that to to study its secrets.
Nanli let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of her head. "Yeah... that’s ."
Siheng raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusent and disbelief in his expression. He’d assud the top-ranked practitioner of that technique had long since perished, a legend lost to ti. Yet here she was, standing right in front of him. Seizing the chance to tease her, he quipped, "Your title’s even worse than Fourth Brother’s."
Nanli waved a hand dismissively, unfazed. "I was going for low-key."
"That’s not exactly low-key," he shot back, smirking.
"I didn’t stick to one consistent na—that’s low-key enough," she countered with a grin. "But there’s no point dwelling on it. Those were old achievents. These days, I can’t even enter those texts anymore." Her tone shifted, growing more serious as she refocused on the task at hand. "Anyway, enough about that. Hurry up and treat Cinian. The sooner we start, the better—and it’ll reduce the risk of complications."
Siheng nodded. Ti was of the essence. The room couldn’t accommodate too many people during the procedure, so only Shandu and Nanli remained as the others stepped out.
Drawing on the mories of the Qiankun Life-Extending Needle, Siheng began by checking Cinian’s pulse, his spiritual energy probing the extent of the internal injuries. Within monts, he formulated a plan. With a wave of his hand, he used his energy to lift Cinian into a cross-legged sitting position, then settled onto the bed across from him.
The treatnt comnced. To nd Cinian’s severed heart ridians and repair his damaged channels, Siheng would need to proceed in two stages. He summoned the spiritual needles with practiced ease, their delicate forms shimring faintly as he guided them to the precise acupuncture points on Cinian’s body. His control over their force was impeccable—each needle sank in, activating the points before spreading his abundant energy to sustain and reconnect the heart ridians.
Siheng’s eyes were closed, his consciousness fully attuned to the process. He could "see" the needles’ movents within Cinian’s body—how they danced through his ridians, coaxing life back into the broken pathways. Beads of sweat ford on his forehead, his lashes trembling faintly from the strain. This technique demanded imnse spiritual energy and focus—no wonder it required an immortal of the Sixth Realm with a divine mark to wield it. A single misstep could spell disaster: the patient would die instantly, and Siheng himself would suffer a crippling backlash.
Shandu stood by, barely daring to breathe. His eyes darted between Siheng and his master, tension etched into every line of his face. Nanli, anwhile, sat back down, one hand propping up her head. She glanced at Shandu and said casually, "You don’t need to be so on edge. Breathe normally—it won’t disturb him."
Shandu jolted slightly, startled by her words. After confirming that Siheng remained undisturbed, he let out a cautious breath, his shoulders relaxing as sweat trickled down his back. "I was afraid of disrupting the Celestial Sovereign," he admitted. "It seems this healing technique is like entering a ditative trance—immune to outside interference?"
"Pretty much," Nanli replied with a nod. "The Life-Extending Needle is an incredibly precise thod. The practitioner has to be completely focused to avoid any mistakes."
"Amazing... truly amazing," Shandu murmured, awestruck.
Nanli’s expression grew thoughtful as she analyzed aloud, "It’s decent, but techniques like this have a flaw: the user becos so imrsed that they’re oblivious to external dangers. To use it safely, you need a secure location—or reliable guardians to watch over you. Hmm... no obvious way to improve it yet..." Her voice trailed off as she sank into her own musings.
Shandu, unfamiliar with celestial techniques, could only listen in quiet wonder. Still, he felt confident that Jialan Celestial Mountain was a safe haven for such a procedure. He ventured another question: "At this rate, how long will it take?"
"No telling," Nanli said, snapping out of her thoughts. "It depends on the patient’s injuries and the practitioner’s skill."
Shandu’s fra shuddered. "It won’t take a year or two, will it?"
Nanli chuckled. "It’s possible."
Shandu’s face fell, distress creeping into his voice. "Master Nanli, how can you laugh? If it really takes a year or two, our Divine Buddha Sect would owe you and your child an unforgivable debt." Cinian’s life was worth saving, but Nanli—pregnant and weary—deserved her husband’s care. What if the child was born before Siheng finished? The guilt would be unbearable.
Nanli waved off his concern. "Don’t worry. It shouldn’t take that long. I have faith in him—he’s the second-best, after all."
Shandu exhaled quietly, reassured. This was the Celestial Sovereign, after all—the only immortal in the Nine States certified by the Heavenly Dao itself.
But just then, a pouch at Nanli’s waist began to tremble violently. Shandu’s eyes narrowed. "Master Nanli, that pouch... it doesn’t look like a Qiankun Bag. What’s inside? Why’s it shaking so much?" His tone grew wary, his protective instincts flaring. He almost urged her to remove it so he could inspect it, fearing it might harm her or the child.
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