This palm strike, though not at full power due to her confusion, would still have severely wounded Feng Dingchu, who was already injured.
Yet, he could not let go.
His true qi could help Chu Qianli stabilize her heart脉 and calm her breathing. If he released his hand to block Chu Qianli's palm, the comfort he was providing to Xiao Li'er would be in vain.
In the end, Feng Dingchu chose to close his eyes.
Ignoring the palm strike that could be fatal to him.
His pale lips parted slightly, and he quietly chanted, "All beings are troubled, and all troubles are suffering..."
With a whoosh, the palm wind surged towards him.
But just as it was about to strike his chest, it abruptly stopped.
Feng Dingchu still had his eyes closed. He believed in Xiao Li'er; at this moment, he could only trust.
"Suffering is neither born nor destroyed, neither impure nor pure, neither increasing nor decreasing..."
Chu Qianli's brow furrowed.
Her hand rested on Feng Dingchu's chest, but the internal energy in her palm had dispersed.
"Old book..."
"Xiao Li'er, repeat after me: That which has form is born from that which has no form. The incapable gives birth to the capable; the capable returns to the incapable."
"All beings... are troubled..."
Chu Qianli's hands trembled, her body shaking slightly, her brow etched with pain.
The hand pressed against Feng Dingchu's chest clenched, her fingers slowly tightening, gripping fiercely.
She was still trying to follow his calming mantra: "Troubled... is suffering. Troubled... is neither born nor destroyed..."
Finally, she collapsed into his arms.
...When she awoke again, the world was serene, as if everything had passed.
Chu Qianli turned her head, looking at the man sitting cross-legged not far from her, cultivating and healing.
Dad...
For some reason, these two words were stuck in the depths of her throat, a hard lump.
Her heart felt a pang of sadness.
She climbed up and sat in front of him, raising her head, quietly gazing at him.
She watched for a long, long time.
"What are you looking at?" Feng Dingchu's eyes remained closed. His lips, chapped from his injuries, lacked their usual rosy glow, but instead held a沧桑ness that was captivating.
"Ninth Uncle, I've hurt you again." Chu Qianli said this not out of affectation, but genuine guilt.
Every time her true qi went out of control, it either drained his power to save her, or she inadvertently injured him.
"You'll get used to it." Feng Dingchu was philosophical about it.
He was still cultivating, but speaking. Although his voice was still as light as water, and somewhat hoarse, Chu Qianli could tell his inner strength was robust.
He was alright.
She breathed a sigh of relief, her gaze still fixed on his brows and features.
Dad... Although he was very young, appearing to be only twenty-five or twenty-six years old.
He possessed an aura that calmed the soul, like a gentle elder.
He could bring her peace, warmth, and a sense of security, like a tall tree or a grand mountain.
If only Ninth Uncle were her father, how wonderful that would be.
"What does 'Dad' mean?" he suddenly asked.
Chu Qianli was startled, looking at him blankly.
How did he know what she was thinking?
Feng Dingchu finally ceased his cultivation and slowly opened his eyes, turning to gaze at her dirty little face. "When you were groggy earlier, you looked at me and called me 'Dad' several times."
Chu Qianli bit her lip and blinked. "Dad... means father."
If she had a father, if her father were still alive, would he be as handsome as Ninth Uncle?
No, Ninth Uncle knew her mother, Long Xiyue, and was her mother's junior disciple. They must have had some connection back then.
Her father...
Chu Qianli suddenly hugged his arm, her voice filled with urgency. "You and my mother... Long Xiyue! Did you...?"
Could he truly be her father?