A man was sitting on a small throne in a large hall, the many decorations in it hinting at the owner's wealth. A small black dog nestled in his lap, its glossy fur shimmering under the light as it wriggled with boundless energy. His stern, imposing presence contrasted with the dog’s playful demeanor, making for an odd, almost humorous scene.
The little dog was insatiable in its need for attention, constantly nudging its wet nose into his hands, demanding both to be used for petting. If one hand stopped, even for a second, the dog would immediately start licking and gently nibbling his fingers until the other hand joined in again, as if it couldn’t bear even a moment’s neglect.
He was a striking figure, a man of about forty-five, broad-shouldered and muscular, with the kind of physique that spoke of years of discipline and training. His long, dark robe, made of rich fabric adorned with subtle, elegant patterns, alongside his demeanor hinted at nobility, though it clung to his powerful form in a way that emphasized the warrior beneath.
His beard was full and well-kept, dark with the faintest hints of silver streaking through it, and his hair, neatly combed and falling just past his ears, carried similar touches of gray near the temples. The silver did not make him look old; rather, it added a certain distinction to his already commanding appearance.
He carried himself with the quiet, natural authority of someone who was used to being in charge, his posture regal and upright even in the relaxed setting. His features were sharp and defined, a strong brow, high cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
His gaze, calm yet intense, carried a depth that hinted at a life filled with challenges and experience, but softened briefly every time the little dog in his lap squirmed and sought his attention. Despite the seriousness of his expression, a tiny hint of warmth flickered in his eyes as he indulged the dog’s need for affection.
Next to him sat another black dog, much larger and clearly older. Its once glossy fur had long lost its appeal, as it lay peacefully beside the man, calm and alert. There was a wisdom to the way the older dog rested its eyes half-closed, as if it had seen enough of the world to be unfazed by it.
Its saliva constantly hit the floor, leaving small puddles on it, the saliva itself was mixed with blood and some other black liquid, the dog was clearly past its best days.
Sporadically, it would glance up at the younger pup with patient indulgence, almost as if remembering a time when it too had been that energetic. The younger dog, meanwhile, would occasionally look to the elder, as if reassured by its presence, before returning to its playful antics in the man’s lap.
Though his face revealed little emotion, the man’s hands moved with a surprising gentleness over the younger dog’s fur, each motion rhythmic and practiced. It was clear he was at ease with the animals, these were not just pets, but companions.
Despite his intimidating appearance, the bond he shared with the dogs softened the atmosphere. He wasn’t merely tolerating their presence; there was an unspoken understanding between them, a quiet comfort that came from years of companionship.
His features, though stern, hinted at a man who had once known warmth and perhaps even joy, though those days seemed far removed from the present. His lips, set in a neutral line, gave the impression that they had long since forgotten how to smile. Yet, the way his fingers idly stroked the little dog’s fur suggested that somewhere beneath the layers of discipline and authority, a gentler soul remained. It was a fleeting glimpse, one that disappeared as quickly as it came, buried beneath the weight of his commanding aura.
The older dog, lying serenely at his feet, let out a soft sigh, its eyes closing fully now as it settled deeper into the ground. The younger dog, still wriggling with energy, finally paused to rest its head on the man’s knee, content for the moment with the steady rhythm of his hands.
The difference between the man’s menacing appearance and the dogs’ companionship created a scene that felt unexpectedly peaceful, like a delicate balance between power and gentleness.
Though his silence filled the room with an air of authority, the quiet scene with his two canine companions softened the image of the man, giving the impression of someone far more complex than his imposing exterior let on.
This was a man who had lived through trials, hardened by battle or experience, yet still retained a sliver of warmth, if only for these two dogs who seemed to understand him better than anyone else.
“How long has it been?” The man asked.
“Tomorrow will mark exactly 40 days.” An older man sitting on his right answered, he was one of many currently present in the room, but his position within the hall and the eye-catching clothes exposed him as more important than the others. A hood covered his face, yet nobody was commenting on it, as if leaving it on was for the best.
“Hmm, keep me posted on any new information and make sure nobody outside this room knows about his absence.” He sighed deeply, prompting the young dog to lift its head to look at him with its adorable eyes. “Why am I even telling you, it's not the first time, and we all know it won't be the last.”
“Sect master, may I?” It was a younger man no older than 25 who spoke up.
The sect master waved his hand in an approving motion, much to the dismay of the dog.
The young man stood up. “As you know, my appointment as an elder is a bit… Special, adding to that the fact I have only been a member for less than a year.” He tried to continue, but the Sect master stopped him before he could.
“Get to the point.” He commanded.
He bowed slightly before continuing, “Then I'll be straight. Why is it essential to keep his disappearance a secret? After all, no sect in the area would dare stand up to us.”
“It's precisely because we are the strongest that we need to worry.” Said the older man with the hood. “Any Unity stage master or even a group of Saints could come, defeat the sect master and claim ownership over the island. Our sect may be strong, but in the grand scheme of things, as much as it pains me to say, we are weak.”
The hall fell silent, the weight of the elder's words settling heavily upon the room. For a moment, even the playful dog in the sect master’s lap seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere, its wriggling slowing as the tension grew palpable.
The younger elder’s face tightened, his pride clearly stung, but he remained composed. "But surely," he began cautiously, "with the reputation of our sect and the strength of our disciples, no one would dare challenge us so easily, even if they knew."
The sect master leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as his voice, though calm, carried the unmistakable edge of warning. "Reputation is a fragile thing. We are strong as long as we are on the island. Outside of it? The Ceaseless Blade Sect might as well not exist."
The hooded elder nodded in agreement, his voice rasping as he added, "The vultures are always circling, waiting for the moment we show weakness. One slip, and they'll descend on us like wolves onto a wounded deer."
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The younger elder swallowed hard, his confidence visibly faltering. "I understand," he said quietly, bowing his head. "Forgive my ignorance."
"There's nothing to forgive," the sect master said, leaning back once more, his hand resuming its gentle stroking of the dog in his lap. "We are in a precarious position. And until the missing piece returns, we must ensure that no one outside these walls learns of our vulnerability. If they do, it won't be long before the challengers come knocking."
He glanced down at the older dog beside him, whose bloodied saliva pooled on the floor, a grim reminder of the toll time takes on even the strongest. The sect master's eyes hardened once more. "We cannot afford to look weak. Not now. Not ever. Take this conversation as inspiration for your next training."
“Yes, Sect Master!” Everyone screamed in unison, startling the young dog quite badly and prompting the older to wake up and look around with a confused expression on his face.
—
The town surrounding the two of them was modest, a small cluster of life nestled at the base of the mountains that cradled the Wind Flower Sect. Narrow, winding streets of cobbled stone wove through rows of simple, sturdy buildings, each marked by weathered facades that spoke of years of steady living.
The rooftops, lined with curved tiles that glinted faintly in the afternoon light, sloped downward in quiet harmony, casting long, soft shadows that stretched across the roads.
Vibrant sounds of daily life echoed gently through the air, the calls of merchants from their stalls, the clatter of hooves against stone, and the distant ringing of a blacksmith’s hammer shaping steel.
Lian Yi walked silently through the busy streets, her eyes scanning the modest town with a sense of detachment. Her father’s sect had always felt like a fortress, but now, as they moved among the ordinary people, she couldn’t help but feel that everything was smaller than she remembered since last she visited.
After a while she broke the silence. “Soooo,” she drawled, his voice casual as always, “what’s the plan?”
Ahmad turned his head slightly to glance at her, the familiar glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “What’s the closest great sect or family?”
“The Tang clan,” she answered quickly. "They’re not far from here.”
“Then we’ll go there.” Ahmad said it with a tone that made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world.
Lian Yi stopped in her tracks. “Wait, what?” she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. “No! We can’t go to the Tang clan!”
Ahmad raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”
“Because the Hidden Blade Sect is under them!” Lian Yi hissed, stepping closer and lowering her voice as if to keep others from hearing. “Going to the Tang defeats the whole point of running away! Didn’t my father tell you that?”
“That’s different,” Ahmad said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Once we get there, you’re my disciple and nothing else. You can even use a fake name if it makes you feel better.”
“Fake name?” Lian Yi repeated, exasperation creeping into her voice. “You can’t be serious!”
“I’m always serious,” Ahmad replied with a grin that said the opposite. “Look, we’re going to visit every one of the Ten Great Sects and Five Families. In each one, you’re going to battle a disciple.”
Lian Yi’s face paled. “Wait, you want me to fight disciples of the Ten Great Sects?”
Ahmad nodded, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Why else would we got there?”
Lian Yi opened her mouth to protest, but Ahmad cut her off with a raised hand. “You’re lucky, actually. Three of them are in Sichuan, so you’ll get plenty of practice early on.”
“Practice?!” Lian Yi sputtered. “This is madness! You can’t just—”
But Ahmad wasn’t listening. He strolled forward, his hands tucked behind his head, as if the matter was already settled. “Starting with the Tang clan,” he continued, his tone light. “Get ready for some fun.”
Lian Yi could only stare after him, her mind racing. Fun? This wasn’t training—it was madness! But as Ahmad strode ahead with his usual casual confidence, a strange blend of dread and excitement bubbled up inside her. Could she really be looking forward to this?
‘It sounds completely reckless... not to mention dangerous,’ she thought. ‘But... I can't help it. I'm actually kind of excited. What if I win?’ The thought sent a thrill through her, sparking something deep within that she hadn't realized was there before.
After finishing her line of thought, with a resigned sigh, she hurried to catch up to him.
—
Lian Yi hurried to catch up with Ahmad, her footsteps echoing lightly on the stone-paved streets. As they continued through the heart of the town, the narrow roads began to widen, revealing a marketplace bustling with life. Stalls lined both sides of the street, vendors calling out to passersby, displaying everything from fragrant spices to finely crafted weapons.
Children darted between the crowds, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic hammering of a nearby blacksmith.
Despite the liveliness surrounding them, Lian Yi found herself preoccupied with thoughts of the Tang clan and Ahmad’s reckless plan. She shot occasional glances at her master, who seemed utterly unaffected by the chaos of the market, casually walking with his hands behind his head. His carefree demeanor did little to ease her growing sense of unease.
They continued their walk, the streets slowly emptying as they approached the outskirts of the town. Fewer buildings lined the road now, and the noise of the marketplace faded behind them. Lian Yi’s thoughts raced again, the idea of battling disciples from the Ten Great Sects sinking in deeper.
It wasn’t just reckless, it was insane. She had heard stories of their strength, of cultivators who had achieved stages beyond her imagination. But despite her worry, there was a small part of her, deep inside, that felt a strange thrill at the challenge.
Lian Yi walked alongside Ahmad, trying to keep pace with his long, easy strides. The market was bustling with noise and color, and yet she felt herself growing more anxious with every step. Her mind replayed Ahmad's reckless plan to visit the Tang clan over and over, but before she could voice her concerns again, a flicker of movement caught her eye.
She glanced over her shoulder, and her heart skipped a beat. Amid the crowded town gate, she saw a small entourage making their way through, their elegant robes immediately distinguishing them from the common crowd. At the front was a figure she recognized all too well: Tang Shuren, the young master of the Hidden Blade Sect.
Lian Yi’s pulse quickened. Of all the people to show up now, it had to be him.
She quickly turned back to Ahmad, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. “Ahmad,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice calm, “we have company.”
Ahmad raised an eyebrow at her. “Who?”
“Tang Shuren,” she muttered, keeping her eyes forward, pretending nothing was amiss. “We should keep moving. Act natural.”
“Natural?” Ahmad gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m always natural.”
Lian Yi shot him a sharp look, not in the mood for his nonchalance. "I mean it. If he spots me, things could get complicated."
Ahmad shrugged, "Complications make life interesting.”
Lian Yi fought back a sigh. As usual, Ahmad wasn’t taking the situation seriously. She had hoped they could slip out of town without any drama, but now it seemed that fate had other plans.
Tang Shuren’s presence was unnerving enough, but she couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself—not when the Hidden Blade Sect was so invested in keeping her within their grasp. Marrying her off to secure political alliances was the last thing she wanted, and running into Jiang Yunfeng here could force a confrontation she wasn’t ready for.
As they neared the town’s edge, she risked another glance back. The group was getting closer, but Tang Shuren’s attention seemed focused on a conversation with one of his attendants. For now, he hadn’t noticed them.
Lian Yi picked up her pace, silently urging Ahmad to do the same. But of course, Ahmad remained as leisurely as ever, his hands tucked casually behind his head. She couldn't decide if his lack of concern was comforting or infuriating.
"Ahmad," she whispered again, "at least try to act like you're in a hurry."
He let out a low chuckle. "What's the rush? We’ve got time."
“They won’t just let me walk away if he realizes I’m here,” Lian Yi insisted, her voice tight with worry.
"Wouldn’t be so sure about that," Ahmad replied, glancing behind them. "Looks like he’s more interested in his conversation than in finding you. The attendant seems to have some trouble with the needle storm technique and he's explaining to him how it works.”
“You can hear them?” Lian Yi asked.
But before he could answer they heard a voice. “Is that you young lady?”
It was an older man sitting in front of a house who said so.
“Old man Wang?” Lian Yi responded.
“How good it is to see you young lady! How is little Mei doing? Is she serving you faithfully?” The old man said, his voice filled with excitement.
“Your granddaughter is well, I wish we could talk but I am, we, are in a hurry.” She responded before taking off.
But just as she started walking another voice could be heard. “Is that you lady Lian?”
The one saying it was of course Tang Shuren, who overheard the old man talking to Yi.
His long black hair was tied back in a neat bun, his features sharp and noble, but his expression was calm, almost soft. Walking beside him were two older men, clearly bodyguards, both carrying themselves with the practiced ease of seasoned warriors. The Hidden Blade Sect crest gleamed on their chest plates, marking them as elite disciples.
Lian Yi’s stomach turned. This was Tang Shuren, the young master of the Hidden Blade Sect and the most likely candidate for her marriage partner. She had heard enough about him to know that while he was kind and gentle by nature, his father’s influence weighed heavily on him. Seeing him here now, of all places, set her on edge.
“Ah, so it is you Lady Lian,” Tang Shuren said warmly as they approached, his dark eyes flicking briefly to Ahmad before returning to her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” His tone was polite, friendly even.
Lian Yi forced a smile, bowing slightly. “Young Master Tang, I didn’t expect to see you either.”
Ahmad stood to the side, watching the exchange in silence, though Lian Yi could feel his gaze flick between her and the young master.
Tang Shuren’s expression softened. “You’re far from the Wind Flower Sect. Is everything alright?”
Lian Yi hesitated. She could feel the weight of his gaze. She knew he wasn’t a fool.
“Just… showing my new servant around town,” she replied, hoping her tone sounded casual enough to be convincing.
Tang Shuren’s lips quirked into a small smile, though his eyes remained serious. “I don't believe such a task is beffiting of someone of your status.”
“I wished to go on a walk regardless, so I simply took him with me.” She quickly replied, but his smile only grew bigger.
Tang Shuren simply smiled.
Lian Yi swallowed. He knew. Of course, he did. But what would he do? Surely, he would drag her back, report her escape to his father, and bring even more pressure on her sect. Yet, there was no malice in his tone, no threat behind his words.
After glancing at Ahmad he said. “Well then, as it seems both of us have something to do I won't take more of your time, I wish you well Lady Lian.” He bowed before turning around and walking away.
Lian Yi’s heart pounded in her chest. Was he really going to let them walk away?
As they continued down the path, Lian Yi couldn’t help but glance back. Tang Shuren was already out of sight yet she felt as if he was still watching her.
Her heart ached, but she quickly turned back, focusing on the road ahead. There was no time for second thoughts. She had made her choice, and now, there was no turning back.
Ahmad walked beside her in silence for a few moments before giving her a sideways glance. “Seems like he’s not the worst of the bunch, huh?”
Lian Yi nodded slowly, though her mind was still racing. “No. He’s not.”
And with that, they left the town behind, the mountains looming ahead as the sun dipped lower in the sky, signaling the beginning of a long and uncertain journey.
"The fuck was that?" Said old man Wang.