The smooth gray fabric of his sleeve pressed against his lips, his teeth clenching down on the cotton. It felt dry and coarse on his tongue, a poor distraction from the gravity of the situation. Wan Yu’s shoulders were tense, held in a straight line rather than their usual relaxed slump. His little fingers clung tightly to the white sheets, betraying the coolness of his stoic facade. Fu Ran could see it—Wan Yu was afraid, too.

For a cultivator, there was only one certainty about negatively inclined spirit vessels: they were meant to be broken, shattered. And worse yet, usually the item wasn't salvageable.

Fu Ran wanted to comfort Wan Yu immediately, to say something that would ease the boy’s fear, but he hesitated, worried that his words might sound insincere. However, perhaps he waited too long.

Wan Yu was the one to break the silence, his voice small and fragile. “Shizun?”

“I…” He almost couldn't answer with earnesty, “I will figure something out. This Shizun promises that.” Fu Ran’s voice wavered.

Please do not think this teacher's words are not sincere just because he cannot keep his voice stable, right now, he mentally begged.

Wan Yu turned to look at Fu Ran, and for the first time, Fu Ran noticed the subtle details in the boy’s golden eyes. Fear, vulnerability, and a deep-seated pain swirled within them—emotions the boy rarely let anyone see. For a long while, Wan Yu sat and let his hair be pet, and he soaked up the relief of comfort.

He showed no signs of fighting the affections, or pulling away like he'd often done before, and Fu Ran refused to chase him away.

Wan Yu was held for a long time, but eventually left with a polite, “Goodnight, Shizun.”

Despite having about half an hour to think about things and calm down while I comforted the little disciple, his heart was in an utter state of panic. His urge to scream was far more powerful than the urge to sleep he was feeling about an hour prior.

Minutes, or perhaps hours, passed in that stifling quiet, Fu Ran’s thoughts a whirlwind of frustration and worry. Why are curses always easier to cast than to lift? he raged silently. It felt as though the balance of the world was forever tipped in favor of those who sowed chaos rather than those who sought to restore peace.

If worse came to worst, Fu Ran could fly Wan Yu away from Jinan on his sword, but passing through the red wood path was no longer an option. The boy’s presence would surely rouse the restless spirits, turning their escape into a disaster.

“Tian Han,” Fu Ran finally spoke, his voice tight with tension. He was nervously twisting the bedsheet beside him, his fingers digging into the fabric. Tian Han quickly moved to the side of the bed with an urgency that suggested he’d been waiting for Fu Ran to say something.

“Yes?” Tian Han’s response was immediate, his voice tinged with concern.

Fu Ran cleared his throat, bringing his sleeve back up to cover his face. “Do you think this curse is brand new? Or was it transferred? Wan Yu was only missing for a short while, and creating a new curse requires significant effort.”

Tian Han nodded thoughtfully. “For similar reasons, I believe it was an existing curse. It must have been placed on him while he was in the possession of the golden masked man.”

“That is exactly what I thought as well… though having it said so blatantly—arrrgh! By gods, what do they want?” Fu Ran yelled angry words, not directed at anyone present.

“Maybe they plan to blame An Xian Yun Peak if the Faceless City falls?” Tian Han speculated, though his tone held uncertainty.

If Tian Han was right, Fu Ran’s beloved sect would be dragged into a catastrophic mess. His heart pounded wildly, the drumming beat echoing in his ears as the gravity of their situation weighed heavily on him.

With a deep breath, Fu Ran retrieved a small call stone from his robes. “I have to contact Shesui Lang to explain this matter,” Fu Ran said. He didn’t want to, but the potential fallout for everyone back home made it a necessity.

They needed backup.

That night Fu Ran’s dreams were horrid, and he could hardly sleep. He clutched Shi Wei Ji at his side, trying to not mentally curse the weapon. The city was in ruin, overrun with those… monsters.

He had to get up.

Tian Han was already awake, so Fu Ran’s sudden movements only gained looks of confusion. “Shizun?”

“I’m going to wake the children, today we must do something.”

***

Knock knock knock!

Fu Ran stood in the middle of the hallway, fist aching from his constant knocking. His disciples weren’t responding to him at all.

“I’m going to break open the door,” Fu Ran said softly, as he prepared a strike.

“Shizun, you can’t do that—!”

Fu Ran’s hand already moved toward the handle. But as his fingers brushed the wood, spiritual qi pooled at the tips. Targeting the little metal pieces that locked the door, he shot out a simple, refined blast. It easily severed the workings, and pushed open the entrance.

The room looked just as they had left it, the beds messed up from a nighttime of tossing and turning and the soft light of late afternoon filtering through the curtains. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Then Fu Ran’s gaze fell on the two still figures lying in the beds.

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Two were visible, but no matter how much he checked, Wan Yu and Su Biyu were missing.

“Lin An? Meng Xiao?” His heart thumped. The children lay still, motionless under the covers. The slow, even rise and fall of their chests told him they were alive, but still the event unsettled him.

Fu Ran ran to Lin An’s side, and dropped to his knees by her bed. His hand trembled as he brushed hair away from her face. Her chest moved with ease, and breath came from her lips in soft puffs.

“Lin An,” he whispered, shaking her. “Wake up.”

Nothing.

Seeking to erase his fear, he looked to the other child. Tian Han was checking Meng Xiao’s pulse, and lightly thumbed over his eyelid to check his pupils. His lips were drawn into a grim expression. “They’ve been drugged,” he said quietly, voice tense with restrained reaction.

“Drugged? Who would—Tian Han, what kind of drug is this?”

Tian Han straightened and put on a more serious expression. “Judging by the glazed eyes, and sweet smell on the breath: Jade Blossom Drops. It’s quite common around the Faceless City, since it's mostly non addictive, but at the same time puts the body into a state of forced relaxation.”

“So like sleep? No intense emotional highs? It feels a bit strange for something like that to be popular in Jinan.”

“Shizun should know it well, as it was one of the first things you witnessed coming into the city.”

For a moment he was lost and thought and his eyes squinted near closed. And then the image came back—that handsome salesman that was trying to get him to eat laced sweets. “Those gumdrop candies?”

“Exactly that.”

As soon as the words were said, Fu Ran sat up straight and touched his belt. He desperately searched for that little white coin purse. Despite the fact that he should have had it when he returned home, it was missing. “Huh? Where is it?” he fretted.

This is very bad, absolutely bad. I had far too many of those on my person, and it's strange, but there's only one way they could have ended up in the mouths of my disciples. Right? He didn't like the implicating thoughts, because he didn't want to incriminate someone that he had better expectations of. So, he shook off his head and tried to move on from the plaguing thoughts.

Hey halfway stood up propping on the side of the bed and decided to exchange his plans with his companion. “Well, while we have the luxury, perhaps we should go out and look for—”

“Shizun…” A soft voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.

Fu Ran’s head snapped toward Lin An. Her eyes had fluttered open. She blinked up at him, her gaze unfocused, dazed. “Shizun?” she mumbled again, her voice weak and slurred. “What happened…?”

Fu Ran’s breath caught, and relief flooded through him. He leaned closer, his hand cupping her cheek. “You’re awake,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank the heavens.”

Lin An’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding her features. “I… I feel strange…” She blinked, trying to sit up. “Where’s Su Biyu and Wan Yu…?”

Fu Ran did not answer. Instead, he avoided her gaze.

“Oh, good, if one is awake the other should be waking up soon.” Tian Han spoke loudly and bent over Meng Xiao’s mattress. He had barely been given the time to open his mouth, and lightly raise a hand to touch the unconscious boy's shoulder, before Meng Xiao’s eyes shot open.

Like his body was moving too fast for his mind to catch up with, his fist quickly came in contact with the side of Tian Han’s cheek, stunning him beyond recognition. Actually, had Fu Ran ever seen the Tyrant Emperor look so taken aback? Both him and Tian Han’s mouth hung open in silence.

“Get off me!” Meng Xiao growled, still half asleep. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What the hell are you hovering for?”

Despite the boy’s slurred words, Tian Han held a flicker of rage in his gaze when he touched his red cheek. He grit his teeth and his eyes seared.

Fu Ran coughed, and tugged Tian Han back a few paces. “Meng Xiao, that’s enough. Tian Han was just making sure you were alright.”

He was clearly too groggy to fully understand. “I’m fine,” Meng Xiao’s voice was hoarse and rough. “Don’t need people hovering over me.”

Tian Han reigned in his temper and sighed.

Fu Ran cast Tian Han an apologetic look, before turning his focus back to Meng Xiao. “Can you understand me fully? You and Lin An were drugged,” Fu Ran explained patiently. “We’re trying to figure out what happened.”

Meng Xiao blinked. His gaze flicked to Lin An, who sat quietly in bed, and then back to Fu Ran. His eyes slowly widened with each action, melding into concern. “By who?”

“We don’t know yet,” Tian Han replied, voice more even now, though there was tension in his stance. “Whoever did that, took Wan Yu.” By the way he spoke, and the name he didn't mention, most likely Tian Han had come to the same conclusion as Fu Ran.

Meng Xiao’s eyes widened slightly. “Again?” He shoved the blankets aside and jumped out of bed, swaying as he stood. His usual bravado returned quickly as he failed to shake off the dizziness. “Then what the hell are we waiting for? We need to—” Slamming into the wall weakly, he couldn’t even finish the words.

Meng Xiao’s fast motion, and readiness to act, came as a surprise. Fu Ran was under the impression that the two didn't get along well. During Meng Xiao’s first few weeks of training, his rough attitude had made him appear more like a bully than a martial brother, always trying to scare the small disciple. But now, seeing Meng Xiao’s eyes sharp with concern—he looked like a proper Shixiong.

Did Fu Ran perhaps miss something important with their development?

His new attitude was brave and bold, perhaps even something to praise, but Meng Xiao could barely stand. His legs wobbled, and as soon as he left the bed’s edge, his shoulder crashed into the wall. The lingering effects of the drugs coursing through his body clearly weren’t going away anytime soon.

Lacking in their natural strength, his legs dropped him to the ground and he crumpled into a mess. At first he whined, but then he angrily growled discontent words: “Damn it! Move, damn you!” Meng Xiao brought a violent fist to his thigh.

Watching the stubborn actions, Fu Ran’s brows drew together in pity. “Meng Xiao…”

To his side, Lin An sat up from her bed, groggily rubbing her eyes. She, too, was clearly still feeling the effects. “We… we gotta do something,” her words sounded like a small moan, “For Wan Yu…”

And even his cute little cry baby was being brave for her Shidi?

Despite her condition, Lin An forced herself to stand, though like Meng Xiao, her body weight quickly fell against the wall. The sight of his disciples barely able to stand, and trying so hard to steel their bodies, filled Fu Ran with a mix of emotions. It was heartwarming, but more than that, it made him deeply anxious.

"The two of you," Fu Ran said softly, then raised his voice, “You should rest. This Shizun has decided that it’s best you stay here in bed, and—”

“No way!” Meng Xiao growled. He slammed his fist into the ground in frustration. “I won't just sit around again!”

“And what exactly do you think you can do in this condition? Children who can’t even stand need to stay in bed! For once, please listen to this Shizun’s words!”

The firmness in his voice surprised even himself. His words carried a weight of frustration only found in a proper teacher. Meng Xiao’s eyes narrowed as he took Fu Ran’s words as a challenge. Slowly, determinedly, he forced himself back onto his feet. He still had to lean against the wall, and his legs shook, but a victorious grin spread across his face as he stood at full height. “Well, there you go, Shizun. I’m standin’.”

Goaded by Meng Xiao’s stubbornness, Lin An followed suit. “Me too! I can stand, Shizun!”

Fu Ran pressed a hand to his forehead, the weight of a headache creeping in. His temples throbbed, and he let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Each one of my disciples is too much. You’re all so troublesome, never listening, always doing what you want…”

Despite his grumbling, he could see the excitement lighting up their faces.

“But… even this useless Shizun can’t help but be moved by your spirit. Thank you,” he murmured.