Zi Nuan's feet traced the path of their last stand, her senses reaching out beyond the physical. The morning after the night's turmoil wasn’t quite tranquil, but the air itself seemed to hum with a rejuvenated Qi, vibrant and untainted. She inhaled deeply, letting the purity wash over her, a stark contrast to the stale and depleted Qi that had sluggishly responded to her desperate attempts at healing her dantian.
Though, she could feel the wariness in the eyes of those around her as they took note of her presence—a warrior among them. Their gazes flickered with the residue of fear from the demonic incursion but were quickly overtaken by something else entirely. A collective sigh of relief had swept through the camp, almost palpable, as if the absence of the demons' corrupting essence had lifted a weight from everyone's shoulders. The effect was felt even by the mortals. While there was clear nervous energy in the air from the attack and made slightly more tense from her presence as they realized she was awake, everyone had a lightness to them. Smiles, light steps, and energy she might've called euphoric permeated everyone. She noticed many people who were injured but as the man had said, nowhere near as badly as they had been before.
She continued to thread her way through the camp, passing by small groups who were busy repairing damages or exchanging stories of the previous night’s encounter. The sense of community and relief was palpable, but her mind was elsewhere, focused on finding this mysterious cultivator, Sè Piān. The Qi she felt as she reached out guided her like a compass, pulsing gently in the direction of a small clearing where the ruins of sledges lay scattered. As she approached, the sound of chopping wood met her ears, rhythmic and measured. Stepping into the clearing, she saw him.
She probed out with her senses, feeling his Qi which flared like fire, was suddenly nothing but a gaping chasm, then the chasm was filled by something living, lush, and flowing like nature made liquid to fill a cup. It was only on the surface, barely perceivable to her and the cultivator suspected she only sensed him because his healing techniques were so fresh in her memory. Anyone else would most likely not sense anything until he decided to.
She probed no deeper as to not be impolite.
She was quick to realize that someone had followed her, but then soon realized they happened to be headed in the same general direction.
"Luoyang! Pan Luoyang, where are you?" pierced the quietude of the clearing, a young girl's cry weaving through the murmurs and clatter of the camp. Zi Nuan turned to see the source of the commotion; a waif of a girl, no more than fourteen summers old, darted between the tents. Her gaze was wide with urgency, searching.
Zi Nuan noted how the livestock—horses and camels alike—shifted their heads towards the sound, distracted enough to look but not stop chewing their feed. The girl pushed through, her small frame slipping past the canvas barriers of temporary homes, until her eyes landed on Zi Nuan. She halted as if struck by an invisible barrier, her forward momentum dying instantly.
The girl's lips parted slightly, breath catching as her attention snapped to Sè Piān, standing tall amongst the debris of battle. With him, a boy not much older than herself, looked on with equal parts awe and trepidation. The color drained from the girl's cheeks, a ghostly pallor overtaking her sun-kissed skin. In this moment, she seemed lost, torn between the protocols of respect and the sheer impulse to scream out her concerns.
"Well, well," he purred, sounding much like a tiger pretending at being a cat, "Why don't we make this a little group session? Zi Nuan, care to show us some moves? It might just inspire our young friend here."
She looked up at him. "Uh…I- What?"
But now, with a single absurd question, she was now the one unsure how to react, her jaw dropping as she took in the great expert’s answer. For a moment, there was silence as his words settled into the fabric of the morning as she tried to process him or any cultivator asking such a thing from another.
A storm of confusion and indignation churned within Zi Nuan. His question, innocent as it seemed, was akin to throwing a stone into a still pond. Ripples of doubt and uncertainty spread out, disrupting her thoughts.
This Sè Piān was not merely asking her to demonstrate some idle fancy. He was asking her to expose the essence of her being, the culmination of years spent honing body and mind under the stern guidance of the Golden Step sect. To reveal her kung fu was to lay bare the very secrets of her sect, to violate a sacred trust that had been drilled into her since she first picked up a blade.
Each sect was fiercely protective of their unique cultivation techniques, and the Three Rings were no exception. Sharing these techniques with outsiders could lead to ruin for the sect and disgrace for the one who dared break this sacred rule. She was already considered a traitor and exposing the techniques she knew would only solidify that image, making her a pariah even among those who might believe her innocent of the chasm incident. If word ever got back, the elders would rally with a vengeance, mobilizing the full might of the sect against her. When—there was no room for if in this—when it happened, there would be no hole deep enough to burrow into, no mountain high enough to ascend for solace, nor any chasm dark enough to swallow her whole, and no sanctuary secure enough to shield her from their wrath. The resources at their disposal were limitless, and their determination to see her punished was as certain as the sun's rise.
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The thought of their relentless pursuit sent a shiver down Zi Nuan's spine. She could almost hear the thunderous echo of Elder Tan's footsteps, each one a harbinger of doom closing in on her.
The weight of her sect's teachings pressed down on her, the echoes of her masters warning her against the dangers of pride and the allure of shortcuts. To reveal her kung fu to this… whimsical stranger felt like betraying not only her sect but also herself.
Yet here was Sè Piān, casually suggesting she throw caution to the wind and reveal her secrets in front of him and these mortal strangers.
Zi Nuan's gaze hardened as she regarded the expert. Did he truly not understand what he was asking? Was he so removed from their world that he didn't grasp the significance of his request? His seemingly carefree attitude was starting to grate on her nerves.
"Great expert," she began, struggling to keep the bite out of her voice, "Your request is... unexpected."
Sè Piān blinked at her, looking for all the world like a child who didn't understand why his innocent question had elicited such a response.
"Why?" he asked, tilting his head in genuine confusion.
How could someone so powerful be so ignorant? Was this a test? Or perhaps he simply didn't care about their customs and traditions. She examined the man carefully, noticing his fluffy red tail and the way his ears twitched. It reminded her of the way he'd first looked when stopping the demon from consuming her. Both a man and a cat blurred together into a single being.
Maybe that was it? It wasn't unheard of for animals to ascend into spirit beasts and for those spirits to then take human form. It was entirely possible this great expert was wholly ignorant of what he demanded as a price for her life.
His obliviousness only served to fan the flames of Zi Nuan's irritation. She decided to give him a chance to understand. No, that wasn't right. She wasn't 'giving' this great expert anything as such a statement would imply, they were anywhere near equals.
No, she was the opportunity to retract his statement, not just for her sake but to save himself embarrassment without incurring his wrath.
If he demanded she dishonored herself… Her heart stuttered in her chest a little. Just thinking about having to decide between further dishonor or facing down this great expert… 'Please, don't make me choose.' She prayed to the heavens.
For the brief moment between one breath and the next, the silence yawned like an ever-growing canyon. Never in her life had the weight of the weapon on her hip tug pull on her belt more than now.
With her head bowed, Zi Nuan's gaze fell upon her fallen weapon, the Bronze Echo, sheathed and silent. Of the three interlocking bronze rings that once sang with the vibrations of her Qi, only one was left and it lay silent with the cracks which scarred the blade. The Qing Dao had been a testament to her prowess, its edge never failing to find its mark in the hands of the Bronze Cleaver. But now, even if could draw the blade against this man, even if she fought through his suppression to try and strike, its once-gleaming structure would leak her Qi like open wounds.
The sight of her damaged sword stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her. The Bronze Echo was not merely a blade; it was a symbol of her honor, the last bit of her identity as a warrior of the Golden Step Sect. It was her companion through countless battles and a stark reminder of her current status as a fugitive.
Zi Nuan measured her words, each one weighted with the gravity of centuries-old tradition.
"This humble Zi Nuan," she said slowly, her voice carrying the weight of careful deliberation, as if each word was a precious gem that had to be set just right. Reservations forced her to pick her words as meticulously as an alchemist chose pill ingredients, each one selected for its precise impact. "Is in no position to share what she knows without the proper permission." She paused, her gaze drifting to the young girl who had followed her, the one who had called out for a Pan Luoyang. "Even if I was, there are protocols that would prevent me from doing so with your present company."
She watched him closely, searching for any sign of comprehension.
"Ah, NDAs. I get it." Sè Piān's whiskers twitched as, to Zi Nuan's relief, he gave a nod of understanding, his tail flicking with curiosity. She had no idea what an NDA was but as it seemed to mollify him, she would go along with it.
Zi Nuan exhaled softly, relief washing over her. The tension that had coiled within her chest loosened, though the unease did not entirely dissipate. She couldn't afford to let her guard down completely—not with this enigmatic expert around.
"Thank you for understanding," she replied, bowing slightly. Her eyes caught the flicker of curiosity in the young girl’s gaze and the boys.
Before she could respond, the man smacked his forehead. “Oh jeez. I completely forgot. I promised the guy in charge I’d help you all get to Oasis Point today. Sorry, I'll figure something out.” he said, a sheepish grin transforming his features to something more abashed. A flicker of unease passed through Zi Nuan. Oasis Point? That was a notorious haven for mercenaries and rogue cultivators, a place teeming with danger and shrouded in whispers of illicit dealings. Why would this eccentric cultivator need to go there, and why would he be tasked with escorting them?
He turned to the boy he was teaching, plucking the odd bag shaped training dummy out the ground like it was nothing. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow, okay?”
The boy just nodded as at a loss for words as everyone at the sudden change in behavior.
With fluid grace, the man's foot raised above the makeshift table at his side. Zi Nuan watched, eyes widening in disbelief as, with an effortlessly timed stomp, he sent a lit Pill Furnace spiraling into the air. It was a move befitting of the most skilled street performer, not wasted a master cultivator.
The heavy artifact rotated lazily before descending back toward him. Quick as a striking viper, Sè Piān snaked under, allowing the Pill Furnace to land with a thud atop his head, where it sat as though it was no heavier than a feather. He steadied it with one hand, a sly grin momentarily lighting up his features as he snatched up a rectangular bag.
‘Where would one even find a 3-day pill furnace out here?’ Zi Nuan's thoughts raced, trying to piece together the origin of such an item in this remote place.
But her musings were cut short; Sè Piān had already started off. With each measured step, sand erupted around him, cloaking his departure in a swirl of gold and dust and the fabric of his deep red and gold robes flowing like a regal wave in his wake. By the time Zi Nuan blinked, he had vanished.
Then just as suddenly, he was back. “Oh, by the way, you’re pretty.” Then he was gone again.
Zi Nuan stood still, her cheeks tinged with a blush that she hadn't expected. The audacity of Sè Piān's remark left her momentarily flustered.
"Hey!" The girl's sharp voice pierced the hush left by Sè Piān's exit, snapping her to the present. She darted forward, pinching the boy by the ear between thumb and forefinger, an authoritative grip that belied her youth and would’ve made anyone held forced to walk with her or loose the ear. The boy yelped, squirming under her hold, but she was unyielding, dragging him away as if he weighed nothing.
"Let go, Sis! That hurts!" he protested, reaching up to try and pry her fingers loose, but the girl, his sister, paid him no mind. Her determined steps spoke of a practiced routine, as though this was an oft-repeated dance between them.
Zi Nuan stood where she had been left, the scene unfolding before her like some bizarre play. Her mind, so often focused and sharp, struggled to make sense of the rapid turn of events—the abrupt end to the lesson, the peculiar handling of the Pill Furnace, and now the sudden departure of everyone but herself.
"What just happened?" she murmured to the empty space, the question hanging in the air unanswered.
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