I have a persona specifically for acting.

When the door was pushed open, the entire room was shrouded in darkness, blocked by the tall figure standing in the doorway.

The actor playing the hunter was actually an underground boxer in real life. Due to his robust build, he often made cameo appearances in instinct films to earn some extra cash. He was nearly two meters tall, and with his muscular upper body, director Shi Qianqiu still felt it wasn’t enough, so he had the modeling team increase various metrics within the actor’s acceptable limits—

While a person who was 1.5 meters tall might feel awkward in a body that was two meters tall, the difference between 1.8 and 1.9 meters wasn’t as jarring. This was referred to as artistic processing in instinct films, and professionals assessed how much and in what ways these adjustments could be made.

In short, the hunter standing before the two female characters looked like a massive mountain of muscle.

He exuded a strong sense of pressure, like a game boss.

Compared to this imposing figure, Tong Zhao, kneeling on one knee and facing him, looked so thin that she seemed like she could be blown away by the wind. This stark contrast provided a powerful visual shock to the audience.

“Who are you? How did you get into my home?”

The hunter frowned, his facial flesh bunching together.

He then noticed the ropes that had been untied beside his woman and, rather than feeling guilty about being discovered, became enraged: “You untied my wife! If she escapes, what will you give me in compensation?”

Saying this, he stepped forward to grab the woman.

However, Tong Zhao stood up and blocked his path.

Before she could speak, the woman grasped Tong Zhao’s calf and pleaded with the hunter, “She was just passing through. I didn’t intend to escape; please let her go. She came from Shao’s Manor, and if she goes missing for no reason, the immortal will definitely send someone to look for her. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

Although Tong Zhao had a sword, the disparity in their sizes was too great.

The woman had suffered at the hands of the hunter before.

His hand, large like a fan, struck her face, leaving her head ringing. To this day, her right ear still didn’t hear properly.

Tong Zhao was taken aback and turned to ask, “How do you know I came from Shao’s Manor?”

The woman was momentarily stunned as well.

She actually didn’t know Tong Zhao’s background; she had just made it up on the spot, hoping to invoke the fear of the immortal at the mountain’s peak to spare this girl’s life. She was already in a miserable situation; there was no need to drag someone else into it.

Hearing “Shao’s Manor,” hesitation appeared on the hunter’s previously stormy face.

He wouldn’t dare touch anyone from the manor; he had to bow and scrape if he encountered them on the mountain road.

But if he let Tong Zhao go, he was afraid his abduction of women would be exposed.

After a moment, he pressed his voice low and stated emphatically, “This is my wife. I tied her up because we had some disagreements last night, and I didn’t want her running back to her family to complain. This place is small, so I won’t be keeping guests.”

Since it was a marital conflict, he figured this poorly dressed woman wouldn’t cause any trouble.

The hunter issued his eviction order, glaring at the woman with a menacing look, warning her not to say too much.

Not wanting to implicate her, the woman shed tears while trying to urge her to leave.

But Tong Zhao seemed to ignore it all.

She raised her gaze, her eyes shining with a cold light that made the hunter’s heart skip a beat. Ignoring her tattered clothing, he believed the woman’s words; this was clearly a person of high status from Shao’s Manor, given her extraordinary demeanor. Her captivating eyes adorned her beautiful face, rendering even him, who loved beauty, unable to harbor any ill intentions toward her.

“She is not your wife,” Tong Zhao said.

Both their faces changed.

The hunter narrowed his eyes. “Nonsense! I’ve claimed this woman’s body; how can she not be my wife? Ask her; let her say it herself if she’s not mine!”

The woman’s face turned pale.

She hated him to the core and was reluctant to admit it.

But to protect Tong Zhao’s life, she bit her tongue, about to swallow her humiliation and confess. Just then, Tong Zhao spoke slowly again:

“She is my disciple.”

As soon as the words left her lips, the sword followed, its cold glint arriving first.

This ordinary sword was truly terrible; it was the worst sword Tong Zhao had ever used, lacking any spiritual energy to enhance it, relying solely on her swordsmanship. The hunter reacted quickly, shifting so that the sword struck his shoulder instead of a vital spot. He let out a howl, and the wound exposed the white of his bones.

“Damn woman, I don’t care where you came from; I’ll make you die here!”

He grabbed his hunting knife, moving quickly, but the injured woman reacted even faster.

So fast that the staff thought the backstage had given her some kind of cheat.

…

The prop master shook her head. “I’m not involved; this isn’t my concern.”

“The protagonist’s fighting ability is already quite high, but there’s also the subconscious influence of the actor,” Shi Qianqiu said, well aware of how actors and their character templates affect each other, knowing that much of this was Tong Zhao’s own skill.

“And it looks particularly good,” the modeler noted. “In the past, when we implanted swordsmanship data into other actors, they couldn’t match Tong Zhao’s performance. Does she have a martial arts background?”

Yes, it looked good.

Tong Zhao, with her golden core shattered and spiritual energy depleted, was no different from an ordinary person, relying on her wits.

In the cramped room, she managed to avoid being touched by the hunter.

Though skilled in archery and adept at fighting beasts, the hunter lacked experience in combat with people.

The more colors hanging from her, the more anxious he became.

Damn it, why can’t he touch her!

The 360-degree camera captured every angle, giving the post-production team plenty of opportunities to shine. Everyone was eagerly anticipating the polished final version—yet even now, Tong Zhao’s fight scenes were overly spectacular, leaving the staff holding their breath and wishing for more time to watch them fight!

The last time they felt this way was during the final dance after Concubine Chen poisoned herself.

Even though the film was still being shot, everyone felt it would become an iconic scene once aired.

This was the kind of memorable moment many actors dream of; just appearing once could fuel marketing for a long time.

Who would have thought Tong Zhao would have one in every film?

In “Countdown 72 Hours,” Feng Yanqi using tweezers to extract a bullet from her thigh became another iconic moment widely discussed on Bilibili and Douyin, needing little marketing, as the visuals were too shocking and captivating.

“I want to marry my sister who can both dance and fight! Wuwuwu!”

The props girl couldn’t contain her fangirl feelings, cupping her face in admiration.

The actor playing the hunter had previously filmed fight scenes filled with brute force, wielding a hunting knife with an imposing presence that heightened the tension. In contrast, Tong Zhao moved with calm confidence, each sword stroke seeming like a dance on the edge of a blade. Every flash of cold light sent the burly man reeling, splattering bright red blood that made eyes sting.

Ultimately, she gracefully evaded a fatal blow, twisting her wrist to deliver a precise stab, driving the sword straight into the hunter’s heart.

As the long sword was pulled from the giant’s chest, he collapsed with a thud.

Blood splattered across the entire back wall of the bedroom, but despite the gruesome scene, there was no joy or sorrow in her eyes. There was no exhilaration from dispatching a villain, nor relief from narrowly escaping danger.

The blood on the ordinary sword was still warm, yet she felt colder than the blade itself.

Tong Zhao shook the blood from her sword and looked at the girl who had curled up in the corner since the fight began. “What’s your name?”

“…I-I’m Qing Niang.”

Called out, Qing Niang shivered.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

…

Qing Niang kindly applied medicine to her wounds and fetched well water for her to wash her face and body. Tong Zhao found clean clothes to change into; even the coarse linen couldn’t hide her stunning beauty.

Seeing Tong Zhao, Qing Niang couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame. She lowered her eyelids shyly and said, “Are you the immortal from Shao’s Village? I don’t want to go home. You saved me, and I don’t dare to ask for anything else—only that you accept me.”

Tong Zhao was silent for a moment. “I’m not interested in women.”

“…”

“I mean as a servant.”

“I don’t need anyone to serve me.”

If she could recover her spiritual power, she could easily conjure a servant with a spell. If she couldn’t recover, and couldn’t defeat Shao Xuanzheng, she would die in seven days—what use would a servant be then? To collect her body? Not necessary.

Thinking that she was unwanted, Qing Niang’s eyes reddened.

Before she could cry, Tong Zhao reached out and patted her head. “Didn’t you say you wanted to apprentice under Mu Yingchen? Do you want to be my disciple or a servant? Think it through.”

Realizing what that meant, Qing Niang was stunned.

“Y-You are Mu Yingchen!?”

Tong Zhao affirmed with a sound.

To Qing Niang, her snow-white profile was as beautiful as something from a poem or painting. She never imagined that the person she admired was standing before her! In her eyes, Mu Yingchen was like a figure from mythology—someone to be gazed at from afar, not to be approached, let alone spoken to, much less to be accepted as a disciple.

“What’s wrong?” Tong Zhao smirked. “Am I disappointing you by being so down on my luck?”

Her previous sword was a treasured gift from her master, with a white scabbard adorned with luminous pearls. Now, she needed to use techniques even to kill a mortal, which was embarrassing.

Qing Niang shook her head vigorously, insisting she wasn’t disappointed.

Tong Zhao briefly recounted her experiences, prompting tears from Qing Niang as she angrily cursed Shao Xuanzheng, calling him worse than a beast.

“I don’t have long to live, but you have good potential. Teaching you some protective spells should be enough.”

Tong Zhao had considered seeking help from the immortal sect. But Shao Xuanzheng wasn’t a fool; he knew she had no friends. The only one who might care for her was her former sect, and he could easily ambush her on the way there. Besides, her master had ascended, and with their departure, the connections had grown cold. She struggled to navigate the complexities of human relationships.

“If you don’t want to go home, then come with me to find the Sword of Severing Emotion.”

Tong Zhao explained what the Sword of Severing Emotion was.

In the worldview of “Heartless Tribulation,” each sword cultivator had a different path, leading to varied approaches in sword refining. Since she had cultivated alongside Shao Xuanzheng for years, her original goal was to master the Longqing Sword. The sword he wielded was a Longqing Sword nearing the Golden Core stage, similar to many enchanted weapons in games.

Tong Zhao had once possessed a similar sword, but he had broken it along with her Golden Core.

Every sword has its lineage.

All sword cultivators aimed to refine their swords to resemble legendary divine blades or to uncover the sword that lay within their inner demons. However, the latter was akin to a legend of the martial world, and no one had ever found it.

— Sword cultivators who break through to the Golden Core stage can enter the Valley of Ten Thousand Swords during meditation. Within it, they can cultivate and embark on trials to seek historically significant swords. At this point, a sudden sharp pain struck Tong Zhao’s head, and she furrowed her brow, pressing against her temples: “There’s something very important… but I can’t remember.”

“I don’t have time to cultivate again; I can only seek out the sword that is inherently stronger than I am.”

Qing Niang asked, “This divine sword is so mysterious; where do we even start looking?”

“I know where it is,” Tong Zhao said with a wry smile, “because the original owner of the Sword of Severing Emotion is my master.”

“After severing her emotions and ascending, my master hid the sword in a secret place, knowing that I would need it someday. Sword cultivators rarely use others’ swords, so borrowing swords is not a common practice; I didn’t expect my master to foresee this.”

…

Backstage.

Everyone turned to Shi Qianqiu in disbelief: “Director Shi, you actually arranged a golden finger for the female lead? That’s not like you at all!”

“I’m a conscientious writer; every character is my cherished creation.”

His statement was met with a chorus of playful boos from backstage.

Meanwhile, in the male lead’s perspective, managed by Deputy Director Zeng, Shao Xuanzheng had won Li Qiaoqiao’s heart, and they were set to hold a couple’s ceremony soon, celebrating his impending Golden Core breakthrough. Previously, the female lead’s cultivation had outpaced his, which had always been a sore point for him. Now, with her Dan destroyed and sword broken, he was finally about to catch up to her former pace, which felt immensely satisfying.

…

As Tong Zhao and her disciple set out together, the atmosphere oddly turned warm and heartening.

Qing Niang took care of Tong Zhao’s daily needs with nimble hands, while the master, aside from practicing swordplay, was clueless about other chores, often displaying an endearingly “naive” side to onlookers. The master’s pure-hearted nature and indifferent attitude toward past events made Qing Niang feel heartbroken seeing her hand wounds, leading her to sob.

The master watched her cry for a good while.

Finally, she sighed and wiped Qing Niang’s tears with her intact right hand: “Stop crying. I’ve never seen a cultivator like you who cries every day.”

The master no longer needed to eat much, but she would always eat a little of what Qing Niang made because she worried about her going hungry.

One overflowed with maternal instinct, while the other seemed devoid of it.

Qing Niang felt that these were the happiest days of her life: she had taken her most admired master as her teacher and discovered that despite Mu Yingchen’s cold demeanor, she had many charming qualities. Qing Niang had half-jokingly and half-jealously asked her fellow disciples about the master, only to learn that she had never taken a disciple before, making this her first time.

In that moment, Qing Niang thought that even if a celestial being wanted to spend their life with her, it wouldn’t compare to the sweetness of this moment.

Following the route from memory, the two arrived at the treacherous long cave at the foot of the cliff on the third day. The environment was so dangerous that the props designer kept asking the modeling team if they had no conscience. The modeler replied, “This isn’t our fault; it was Director Shi who requested it to be more perilous and had us redo it three times.”

Everyone turned to look at the director, who had claimed to be the character’s ‘real mother.’

Trust him? Not a chance!

Deep in the cave, they indeed found the treasure box left by the master.

Inside the box, there was no sword.

Only a sword sheath and a letter, next to a forge used for sword-making.

This forge was much larger than those commonly used, and Tong Zhao suspected it had been specially crafted by her master.

The letter contained her master’s words, stating that each Zhanqing sword was unique and needed to be forged with the flesh and blood of a loved one: “Since Yingchen, you have seen this letter, it means you have made a choice between swordsmanship and love. You are my proudest disciple; neither Shao Xuanzheng’s skills nor abilities can match yours. Using him as a sacrifice, you will surely forge your own Zhanqing sword.”

……

It seemed her master wanted her to kill her husband to prove her path.

Tong Zhao felt a bit dazed, realizing her master had overlooked something.

She had come too late; she intended to use the divine sword for revenge, but what could she use now to sacrifice Shao Xuanzheng?

As she read the last line, her expression changed drastically. She crumpled the letter and threw it to the ground: “Master, what nonsense!”

……

The crew, frustrated, stomped their feet when that last line didn’t get captured on camera.

“What’s written on it, brother Shi?”

Some were eager for spoilers.

Shi Qianqiu pondered, then smiled with a kind, maternal expression: “A compromise choice.”

……

Throughout the journey, the master’s demeanor had always been calm.

Qing Niang had never seen her angry, and it was rare to catch her smile. Now witnessing her fury and realizing they were in a deadlock, she couldn’t help but feel anxious for her master. She crouched down to pick up the paper, wanting to brainstorm solutions, but Tong Zhao, frustrated and breathless, realized it was too late…

“If you seek the divine sword only because of harm from the Shao villain, Yingchen has another method. As long as you use a practitioner with water or fire spirit roots as a sacrifice, you can also forge a heartless sword. However, this forge can only be used once; sacrificing a loved one will yield better results, so Yingchen must be cautious.”

Qing Niang read the last line aloud, understanding why her master was so angry.

She looked at her master.

Tong Zhao snatched the letter from her hand and tore it to shreds: “Don’t even think about it; I’ll find another way.”

Find another way? How?

There was no time left.

“Regardless, Qing Niang’s life was saved by the master. If I can be of use and become the master’s sword, I’d be so happy.”

The hunter valued her water spirit root and beauty, wanting to use her to carry on his lineage. Qing Niang had once fiercely resisted, secretly vowing that if she survived, she would kill the child and take her own life, refusing to let anyone exploit her gifts.

However, this time she was glad to be a water spirit root, as it meant she could serve as the furnace for her master.

Qing Niang volunteered to be the furnace, but Tong Zhao firmly refused: “I didn’t take you as my disciple to use you as a furnace for sword forging. If you still see me as your master, then this is absolutely not something you should bring up again.” This was the first time she had lost her temper so severely with her disciple, giving her a stern lecture.

Just as Tong Zhao was about to knock her out to stop the argument, Qing Niang, with red eyes, asked, “So does that mean Master’s revenge will go unpunished? Did she die for nothing?”

“Revenge can’t be paid for with your life. If I die, then it’s just me losing to that scoundrel Shao!”

The two were caught up in their heated argument, saying whatever came to mind.

After Tong Zhao finished speaking, she paused, as if realizing something. When Qing Niang, daringly, tried to argue with her again, this time Tong Zhao agreed to Qing Niang’s suggestion. Qing Niang was overjoyed at the thought of dedicating herself to her master, completely unaware of why her master had changed her mind. She enthusiastically took charge of the preparations for the sword forging, feeling no fear of impending death, and even a little excitement.

Her disciple still had the chance to become successful.

Becoming her master’s sword meant she could stay by her master’s side for a lifetime!

However, once the sword furnace ignited, Tong Zhao pressed a binding talisman onto Qing Niang’s unsuspecting shoulder.

At that moment, the only part of Qing Niang that could move were her eyes.

She stared at her master in disbelief, tears streaming down her face.

“My spiritual power can only hold you with this last talisman, and it won’t last long. The box contains the method for forging swords. Once the sword is made, take it and join the North Qing sect. Only seek revenge when you’re fully capable; if not, focus on your cultivation and don’t dwell on revenge.”

Tong Zhao didn’t want Qing Niang to sacrifice herself in vain.

She thought of a good reason: “The sword I forge must never lose to Shao Xuanzheng again.”

With that, she leaped into the massive sword furnace.

Qing Niang’s eyes widened in horror, and as the binding spell released, she knelt down, crying out for her master.

She wasn’t afraid of the heat as she clung to the edge of the furnace, her hands burned but still unaware, longing to jump in after her master.

—

Backstage.

“I told you, I’m very good to the female lead! I’ve arranged tasks for her step by step; there’s no dead end she can’t solve,” Shi Qianqiu argued.

However, the other staff members looked at him with reproachful eyes. “Brother Shi, just wait. After this movie airs, the audience’s backlash will fill an entire warehouse with criticism. I advise you to switch careers to selling knives!”

“I’m not that heartless! You all looking at me like this really hurts!”

—

In a moment, Qing Niang, crying by the furnace, suddenly felt a cool breeze.

She looked up through her tear-filled eyes, thinking she was hallucinating from her sorrow: “No, I can’t let my master down; this sword must be forged…” But when she looked into the furnace, she sensed an overwhelming sword intent.

In the forest on the mountain, the resting birds and animals were startled and fled in fear.

Dark clouds gathered, and thunder rumbled.

The woman in white rose amidst the flames, wielding a long sword.

Dressed in a flowing white robe, the flames did not harm her at all, and her previously broken left hand was now whole.

Qing Niang knew her master was beautiful, but now, illuminated by the firelight, she saw her master’s face more clearly and felt an almost terrifying beauty, like a drawn blade. While beautiful, it reminded her that a single strike could very well take a life.

When her master’s gaze fell upon her, she couldn’t help but shiver again.

It was as if the sword tip pressed against her forehead, exuding an icy chill.

Her master walked towards her, stepping through the void, and gently patted her head: “I told you not to cry.”

“Master, you lied to me!”

Qing Niang felt utterly wronged.

Tong Zhao bent down to pry her fingers from the edge of the forging furnace, her palms burned and raw: “Fool, don’t you feel pain?”

“I’m not afraid with you here,” Qing Niang said, holding onto her master’s hand tightly.

Tong Zhao’s expression remained cold, seemingly unmoved by her display of affection. She used a small spell, and Qing Niang’s hand healed at a visible speed: “My spiritual power has returned… No wonder my master said it can only be used once. It fused me with the sword, and my shattered Golden Core has recovered, but now I don’t know if I’m considered human or a sword.”

Qing Niang was happy for her master: “Whether you’re human or a sword, you’re still my master!”

Tong Zhao looked down, slightly annoyed: “You’re really noisy.”

Qing Niang stopped talking and cautiously looked up while hugging her master’s thigh: “So, does Master still want me to go to the North Qing Sect to apprentice?”

“You can go if you want.”

“I won’t go,” Qing Niang shook her head vigorously. “I want to go with you to seek revenge!”

She glanced at the furnace: “If you’ve become a sword, if I jump in too, can I be your sheath? Or, we could be like Ganjiang and Moye! Better than those scoundrels!”

While searching for the secret sword, they had heard that the Shao family was holding a couple’s ceremony.

Counting the days, they still had time.