Chapter 216: Ye Zhao’s Choice: Upholding the Way of the Sword

Shen Yan’s eyes snapped open, his chest tight as if struck by a heavy hammer. He lay on an uneven stone slab, his right hand still clenched in a gripping posture, fingers twitching slightly, as if he had truly been tapping on his phone just moments before.

The campfire had dwindled to a few flickering embers, glowing and fading in the wind.

He pushed himself up from the ground, his head spinning. The feeling of depleted Mental Power was like having his battery drained dry; even lifting a hand felt exhausting. Yet he still fumbled for his phone—the screen was dark, and the Charge icon remained unlit.

“Crashed again,” he muttered under his breath. “This damn System is harder to deal with than a client.”

Just then, he heard the faint clink of metal against stone.

Looking up, he saw Ye Zhao sitting on a broken rock not far away, her back to him. Her silver-white hair swayed gently in the night breeze. Her left hand rested on the sword sheath across her knees, while her right hand slowly stroked the tassel, as if counting each strand of silk.

Shen Yan said nothing, slowly moving to sit beside her. He poured half a cup of warm water from his backpack and offered it to her.

Ye Zhao didn’t take it, nor did she look at him.

After a few seconds, she finally spoke: “That strike just now… you compiled our power into a piece of Code.”

Her voice was calm, but Shen Yan could hear the barely concealed tremor in it.

“And I was just one of the Variables.”

Shen Yan glanced down at his hand, then at the dead phone, and chuckled. “But without your Sword Intent to trigger it, the entire Program wouldn’t have run. You’re not a Variable—you’re the Initiate key.”

Ye Zhao shook her head. “That’s exactly why I’m more afraid. What if one day my sword is a fraction of a second too slow, or the Program you write no longer needs me… What identity would I have left to stand by your side?”

After saying this, she finally turned to look at him.

Her gaze wasn’t as cold as usual; instead, it held something indescribable—like struggle, or perhaps a resolve that had settled deep within.

Shen Yan didn’t reply immediately. He knew what she was thinking.

They had won that battle, but the victory relied too heavily on his Code. The power of four people had been compressed into a single, minimal Command, like a Function Call. Efficient and powerful, but it made him the core, reducing the others to mere execution Modules.

Including her.

Ye Zhao was the Chief of Sword Sect. Since childhood, she had relied on her sword and believed in the Way of the Sword. But now, her sword had to wait for a Script written by a Programmer to take effect.

No one would feel comfortable with that.

Shen Yan opened his mouth, wanting to say something comforting, but realized nothing would help.

After a long silence, he finally said, “You’re right. The System can’t stay stable forever, and Code will have Bugs. Just like even the strongest swordsman can slip up.”

Ye Zhao watched him.

“But I don’t write Programs to replace any of you,” Shen Yan continued. “I do it so your swords can strike farther and faster. I’m not trying to control anyone—I want everyone’s skills to truly be put to use.”

Ye Zhao lowered her head, her fingers still twisting the tassel into knots.

“But I’m still not strong enough,” she said. “That strike just now was the result of my full effort. And you… you just closed your eyes and typed a few words.”

“That’s because I don’t have a sword,” Shen Yan said with a bitter smile. “If I had a sword like yours, I wouldn’t be clinging to my phone as a magic tool every day.”

Ye Zhao’s lips twitched slightly, as if she wanted to smile but held back.

The wind swept through, extinguishing the last embers of the fire.

Darkness fell all around in an instant.

Ye Zhao slowly rose to her feet, drew her Lifebound Sword, and traced a shallow line on the ground.

“I’m not running away,” she said. “I must walk a path no one has walked before. Not to defeat anyone, but so that when I stand before you again, my sword will be able to cut through fate itself.”

Shen Yan looked up at her.

He knew what this meant.

She was leaving.

Not out of betrayal, not as a break, but as a choice. A Sword Cultivator’s respect for her own path.

He stood up slowly, brushed the dust off his pants, and pulled his phone from his pocket, pressing a few buttons. The screen remained dark, but he still held it up as if debugging something.

“Then remember this,” he said. “No matter how far you go, as long as you’re still willing to draw your sword, my Code will always reserve an Interface for you.”

Ye Zhao was taken aback.

Then, she smiled.

It was the purest smile Shen Yan had ever seen—unshielded, without distance, like the first ray of sunlight piercing a valley after a storm.

She sheathed her sword, turned, and began to walk away.

The setting sun fell perfectly behind her, stretching her Shadow long and deep into the ruins. Her steps were steady, growing firmer with each stride, as if she had finally shed some heavy burden.

Shen Yan stood where he was, neither chasing nor calling out.

He knew that some people didn’t need farewells—their departure was itself a kind of return.

He lowered his head to look at the phone in his hand and suddenly felt it grow warm.

His fingertip unconsciously slid across the screen, as if writing something.

A new line of Code was being generated.

【Reserved Interface: Way of the Sword · Exclusive Access Authorization】

Permission Level: Highest

Trigger Conditions: Ye Zhao draws her sword

Execution Effect: Automatically synchronize all Defense Protocols, set Priority to top

Before he could finish, the phone suddenly vibrated.

The Screen lit up.

It wasn’t booting up, nor was the System recovering—it was a Popup Window Notice:

【Detected external Spiritual Power Fluctuation. Target has left the safe zone. Initiate tracking Program?】

Shen Yan stared at the words, his finger hovering over the confirmation button, hesitating to press.

In the distance, Ye Zhao’s figure was nearly disappearing among the broken walls.

Her back grew smaller and smaller, yet it resembled an unsheathed sword, pointing straight at the blood-red sunset on the horizon.

Shen Yan withdrew his hand and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

He sat back down on the stone slab, leaning against a broken stele, and looked up at the sky.

A crack split the clouds, revealing a corner of deep blue.

Suddenly, he remembered a book he’d read as a child in the orphanage, titled The Swordmaster’s Solitary Path. Back then, he hadn’t understood it, but he recalled one sentence from the last page:

“True protection is never about binding someone, but about letting them fly higher.”

He grinned to himself and muttered, “This plot is more hardcore than the Code I write.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a faint green light flickered at the Tip of his Finger.

It was very faint, gone in an instant.

Like a System Restarting, or like some kind of response.

He paid it no mind, simply shoved his hands into his pockets and stared motionlessly in the direction where Ye Zhao had vanished.

The wind swept up ashes from the ground, swirling past the tips of his shoes.

A charred fragment of Talisman Paper drifted to his feet, its edges still stained with a hint of pale yellow pigment.

Shen Yan glanced down at it but didn’t pick it up.

He knew that some things, once lost, could never be picked up again.

But he also knew that some people, once gone, never truly leave.

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(End of Chapter)