Fu Ran commanded Shi Wei Ji to descend. He landed elegantly, while the man in black hit the ground with a heady thud, groaning. Fu Ran noticed how the ground seemed to shudder beneath him. The man recovered quickly, rubbing his back beneath the sword adorned with rose-quartz gems, and he immediately took on a dramatic pose.

“Thief!” the man in black called, stepping forward and raising four fingers. “You’ve got four minutes. And I’m feeling generous: you get a choice.”

The thief’s eyes darted between them, gripping a pink embroidered bag.

“One: You return that bag to Xi’er, drop to your knees, and beg for forgiveness,” the man in black continued with a grin. “Or, you wait out these four minutes, lose the money, and face me—Yi Yingzhi, defender of pretty ladies.”

Fu Ran fought back a sigh at the absurdity of the words. Yi Yingzhi's tone was deliberately mocking, but his eyes were cold, watching the thief's every move. The threat, despite the delivery, was real.

The thief hesitated, confused. He shifted nervously, then drew a small dagger, his hand shaking. He lunged forward, but Fu Ran easily sidestepped, and upswung his arm, knocking the blade from a limp hold. The blade clattered against the stone a few paces deeper into the alley.

“Three,” Yi Yingzhi counted, still smiling, his fingers now three. A minute had passed.

The thief’s breaths grew ragged. “Why do you care if some money is taken from a few… whores?” he sneered. “They “earned” it through me anyway!”

Fu Ran’s face hardened, and he raised his sleeve to cover his mouth in disgust. “How tasteless,” he muttered. “To demean those you’ve already wronged.”

The thief's anger flared. “What right do you cultivators have to judge me?” He fumbled, searching his clothes for another weapon but found none. With a snarl, he raised his fists.

“Two,” Yi Yingzhi said calmly, fingers dropping to two.

The thief, swinging wildly, threw more than a dozen quick paced punches. Yi Yingzhi sidestepped, letting the man flail uselessly, unable to land a single hit. Each time his fist just barely missed his target, though it was obvious to tell that Yi Yingzhi was merely toying with him, now. With a swift movement, he kicked out gently, knocking the thief off balance. He fell to the ground, still clutching the pink bag.

Panic setting in, the thief’s face paled. “One,” Yi Yingzhi said, his smile unchanged, one finger remaining.

Desperate, the thief scrambled backward and then took off in a run. Yi Yingzhi calmly threw his blade at Fu Ran. “Cultivator didi, hold this.”

Fu Ran’s eyes widened at the informal address, and he nearly dropped the sword as it was tossed to him. His arms strained under the sudden weight. How is this so heavy?! This is insane, and cannot be a real usable weapon! he thought, gritting his teeth as he steadied himself.

Yi Yingzhi kept his gaze on the thief, his playful demeanor unchanged.

“Are you not going after him?” Fu Ran managed to ask, his voice tight with effort.

Yi Yingzhi’s smile remained playful, but there was an edge in his voice as he spoke. “He still has time to change his mind,” he said softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “People should always have a chance to change their mind, even up until the very last second.” His gaze shifted back to the thief, and his smile widened, almost sweet. “One minute left.”

Fu Ran felt a flicker of unease as he watched the thief stumble clumsily through the area. The man’s steps were slow, his feet dragging, exhausted, as if every stride took more effort than the last. Yi Yingzhi’s smile gradually faded, replaced by a cool frown. “Time is up,” he announced flatly. In the blink of an eye, he vanished, moving so swiftly that Fu Ran couldn’t follow where he’d gone. One moment, Yi Yingzhi was standing beside him; the next, he had the thief by the back collar of his robe, as if plucked from thin air.

Fu Ran expected some sophisticated spiritual technique, given the speed at which Yi Yingzhi moved. What he didn’t expect was the brutal, unrestrained force with which Yi Yingzhi began to pummel the thief. There was no elegance to it—no grace. Just raw, bare-fisted blows that left the man gasping and wailing for mercy. The beating lasted only moments, but they felt much longer. Yi Yingzhi's expression was tight with a rare, genuine anger as he finally stopped, letting the thief slump to the ground, unconscious.

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“You needn’t apologize to me. You should have just apologized to the girls.” Yi Yingzhi said, his voice low and strangely serious. He stared down at the man with disdain, only stepping back when he saw the thief had fainted.

Fu Ran watched Yi Yingzhi carefully, still stuck in place from holding the heavy weighted sword. The shift from Yi Yingzhi’s cheerful facade to this unexpected ferocity was unsettling. When the other man turned back to him, however, he was grinning ear to ear, his lighthearted demeanor back in place as if nothing had happened.

“So, who’s going to be the one to return it to her?” Yi Yingzhi asked, holding up the small embroidered bag.

Fu Ran hesitated. The weight of the blade was becoming unbearable, and he found he could not move his feet. “W-Who?” He struggled to ask.

“What do you mean, “who?” It should be obvious!” Yi Yingzhi’s grin grew wider and his cheeks were tinted a bright pink and red. “The lovely Xi’er of Violet Court! Do you think she might offer a “personal thank you?” This is totally unlike me but—” Yi Yingzhi walked over and wrapped an arm around Fu Ran’s neck, adding even more weight to his body. He laughed, emphasizing the word “personal” with a sly glint in his eye. “Why don’t I let my dear cultivator didi handle this one?”

Fu Ran’s face stiffened at the insinuation. How improper, he thought. He had no interest in any “personal” thanks. “Can you stop calling me, didi?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Yi Yingzhi blinked, feigning confusion. “So how should I address the honorable cultivator then?”

“Fu Ran. I am a Peak Master of An Xian Yun Peak.”

“Fancy, fancy!” Yi Yingzhi’s eyes sparkled mischievously, and before Fu Ran could react, he tightened his grip, pulling Fu Ran into a half-hug. “Alright, Ran-Ran. I am Yi Yingzhi! You can call me Ying-Ying.”

I will not call you Ying-Ying! Fu Ran thought, bewildered by the even more informal nickname. And where did Ran-Ran come from?! Who calls a stranger by their given name like that?

Fu Ran’s face twisted in annoyance. “It’s a pleasure, Yi Yingzhi—” he began, but was quickly cut off.

“So, you’re a pretty talented cultivator, right? Can you take on a job for me?” Yi Yingzhi's tone remained light, but there was an undertone that felt… off. “I know someone else at An Xian Yun Peak, but I can’t seem to get hold of them right now.”

Fu Ran could sense a hint of urgency, even though Yi Yingzhi's tone was light and friendly.

He explained, “I am currently on a mission, and I do not have the time to take on any more.” His mind flashed briefly to the imminent threat over Jinan. He had no time to waste.

“Huh?” Yi Yingzhi looked surprised. “Wait, you won’t even hear me out? That doesn’t sound very “Peak Master” of you.” His eyes gleamed with mischief, and no real intent to cause hurtful words, but Fu Ran felt a twinge of guilt.

He had been curt with his rejection, but the stakes were high. There weren't any other easily foreseen choices. Still, he didn’t want to turn away someone who seemed to mean well—however annoying.

“However,” Fu Ran began, thinking quickly, “why don’t you pay a visit to An Xian Yun Peak in person? Someone there will be able to assist you.”

Yi Yingzhi’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Well, thank you, Ran-Ran. I suppose I can come as a “precious invited guest,” then. I’ll visit An Xian Yun Peak soon, and I hope you will be waiting for me.” He released Fu Ran and stood before him, plucking the sword from his hands as if it weighed nothing. Relief flooded through Fu Ran as the crushing weight lifted from his arms.

Moments later, another set of footsteps echoed through the street, and Fu Ran turned to see Tian Han approaching, breathless. Fu Ran tossed the little pink bag to Tian Han, eager to be rid of it. Tian Han caught it, looking confused, but there was no time for questions.

A voice rang out, high and clear. “Please, slow down!” Xi’er panted as she appeared, her face flushed with effort. The moment she spotted the bag in Tian Han’s hands, her expression brightened. She let out a small, delighted squeal and wrapped herself around Tian Han’s arm, her nearly exposed chest pressing against him. Tian Han’s eyes widened in horror, and he tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron.

Yi Yingzhi sighed loudly, his expression twisted into a mockery of despair at the sight of Xi’er wrapped onto Tian Han. His nose crinkled, and his brows furrowed dramatically. But then, just as quickly, he perked up. “Miss Xi’er! Allow me to escort you home!” he called out cheerfully. “I’ll drag this guy back for you, too!”

Yi Yingzhi took only one step before he turned back to Fu Ran. He gave a playful wink, and whispered, “Ran-Ran, I’ll come to see you soon.”

With that, Yi Yingzhi picked up the unconscious thief by the ankles and, without further ado, dragged him out of the alley, following Xi’er back toward the Violet Court.

Once they were alone, Tian Han turned to Fu Ran with a look of betrayal. “Shizun, how could you do that to me? You haven’t known her for long, but you already know how Xi’er gets.”

Fu Ran suppressed a sigh. He regretted it almost immediately after tossing the bag to Tian Han. He didn’t like seeing women hanging off Tian Han, not one bit. It just seemed wrong, and didn’t suit the Tyrant Emperor.

“Who was that?” Tian Han asked, his irritation already fading.

“Yi Yingzhi.”

“A friend?”

“I… don’t think so? He asked me for a favor, but I sent him to An Xian Yun Peak instead.” Fu Ran was still feeling a twinge of guilt for putting Tian Han in an uncomfortable spot.

Tian Han looked at Fu Ran with concern, noticing the fatigue etched across his face. “You look exhausted. Let’s return home,” he suggested gently, holding out his hand. His voice was as soft and kind as always. Fu Ran hesitated for a moment, then took the offered wrist, feeling the warmth of Tian Han’s skin. He felt his cheeks flush slightly, grateful for the dim light of the alley hiding the color.

The city of Jinan seemed to grow even louder and brighter as the night wore on. Too lively, Fu Ran thought. Far too lively for me.