Fu Ran had arrived back home along with sleepy disciples. They hadn’t gotten a full night's sleep, and had to lug large amounts of belongings up hundreds of stairs. This was precisely why Fu Ran traveled light.

Their bemoaning whines were humorous, until Fu Ran was made aware of Tian Han’s luggage. How could he forget that he was carrying for two?

His face quickly soured.

Tian Han carried only a few belongings, and so did he. But it was still double his intended supplies. He no longer felt the tug of amusement. Instead, with a silent grumble, he collected the baggage.

When the first step was taken, the bells of An Xian Yun Peak rang out. For regular adventuring sect members, this was the satisfying sound of a job well done—a peaceful return home.

“Is Shizun okay?” Lin An asked.

“This one,” Fu Ran fought away the pain in his eyes, and straightened his back. “This one has made this trip more times than you can count!”

Su Biyu chuckled.

She wasn’t carrying near as much as the other two, because she said all of her belongings together were not worth returning home for. And Fu Ran was shocked when she came over and took the purple colored bag in hand. She threw it over her shoulder and climbed several steps before he could say no.

“Shizun is also,” she muttered, “someone that I will need to apologize to. This is merely one act of repayment.”

Fu Ran blinked. For a moment his heart stuttered, but he nervously asked her to clarify. “Repayment?”

“Shizun said, kindness must be repaid. I thought that…”

“No—” Fu Ran quickly cut her off. The other disciples all looked at him as though the reaction was strange. “Nothing needs repaid, not like that.”

I did not say that.

A sweatiness clammed up his palms in an instant, but he tried to force a smile. “Do things just because you want to. With me as your Shizun, please, don’t repay me anything.”

Even the carriage driver shared some strange looks and arched his brow, so it was no surprise that the children were doing the same.

“Then, can I help?” Su Biyu said, softer this time.

“...Yes.”

Fu Ran had finally relented. Only when they had started walking again did he wipe his face, cleaning it up accumulated sweat. He puffed, and his chest raced. 10 stairs turned into 100, and then a few hundred more. Even Meng Xiao, the hardier of his disciples, was struggling to keep his brows drawn neutral.

It took me a dozen expeditions before I could walk up these steps like a proper disciple, Fu Ran grinned and mentally chided. Just as he was silently teasing, loud thumps in his chest made him aware of his own drumming heartbeat. He wasn’t much better, afterall, that was a long time ago.

Out of every panting breath, there was one not heard: Wan Yu’s. He was about 20 steps ahead, and showed no signs of tiredness. The rest of his group was the only thing holding him back from being able to race to the main gates, because he waited for them each time the distance grew too great.

Conquering An Xian Yun Peak was a weekly chore, and they would all have to get used to it sooner or later. Without Shi Wei Ji, Fu Ran would be stuck on his feet too, just like a beginner disciple once more.

With the main gates in view, Fu Ran wheezed. His hand rested on his right side where his lungs ached, and he pursed his lips to hide his labored breathing. The sky, as chaotic as ever, still bristled with activity even into the late hours.

Like small shooting stars, peak disciples in white flew on their glimmering swords left and right. This indicated that the state of An Xian Yun Peak hadn't improved during his absence, and the chaos was still rampant. Of course, the struggles brought by the loss of several Peak Masters wouldn’t disappear in a week's time.

It’d been about a month since the Bloody Entrance Exam, and things haven't shown a single hint of recovery.

The upper gates opened wide with a second bell’s ringing—much closer this time. And when the doors were scraped across the white tiled courtyard, Fu Ran was met immediately with a figure he recognized.

Standing only a few paces into the path was Jiao Xue, an old disciple of Shesui Lang's. He looked like he had seen a ghost. For a moment, Fu Ran forgot that reaction was essentially a common greeting.

“Master Fu is out and about?” Jiao Xue spoke softly, and brushed his hair to the side. He wore tinted pinks, and his hair was held in place with flower pins. Anyone could admit that even under the moonlight, his looks were stunning.

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Being the proper bookkeeper of An Xian Yun Peak, Jiao Xue, who was made to work right beside Shesui Lang each day, earned Fu Ran’s pity. Not many could handle the task of being the gaudy Peak Master’s right hand, and it wasn’t a job anyone else wanted. One would be correct if they called the job a personal punching bag. Jiao Xue would never allow the thought though, as he was always so cordial.

Fu Ran tried to respond quickly, while also giving himself time to recover his breath. “Ah, returning home… from a mission.”

Following behind Jiao Xue was a makeshift bag wrapped around a standard floating sword. It was comically full with papers to the point where one master in a rush could come flying by and spread it everywhere with a single gust.

“I haven’t heard about you taking on a mission, nor have I heard of you taking on…” Jiao Xue looked past Fu Ran’s shoulder and smiled softly. “So many disciples.”

“Ah—” Fu Ran was taken aback. All but Meng Xiao looked intrigued at the unknown man. Since Jiao Xue had decided to refrain from master training, he held a lower position, one that his disciples wouldn’t have known. “This is… a long time acquaintance.”

Jiao Xue smiled and nodded. He crossed his hands in front of his body and bowed to the children. “It’s a pleasure. If you visit the library during your training, don’t hesitate to ask for me.”

“And Master Fu,” Jiao Xue continued, “Perhaps you will finally take me up on my offer for tea? Will you visit Yue Liang Hall?”

Fu Ran’s gaze trailed away.

“I’ll have to cancel this one, forgive me again Jiao Xue, I promise I will one day.”

“Then… Have a good night.” Jiao Xue’s brows only lowered a little, but he still raised his hands in a formal bow.

When he turned to leave, a strangeness snapped Fu Ran’s attention. Behind Jiao Xue followed that sword: It wasn’t an uncommon use for one's spiritual blade, but Fu Ran had seen the weapon in question before.

Without a doubt, this one was a casual training sword, and nothing more.

“Jiao Xue,” Fu Ran called to stop the other cultivator. “Where is your spiritual weapon?”

In response, Jiao Xue stiffened and slowly met his gaze. There was a touch of despondent sadness in his eyes. Did the question hit a nerve? Fu Ran just had his blade taken, so perhaps he was more perceptive to the changes, but the words slipped from his lips before he had time to stop them.

“Please, don’t worry about that Master Fu.”

Fu Ran cocked his head to the side, but Jiao Xue had already turned to leave.

How strange.

Being left with his disciples’ yawns brought him back to the current mission. “Lin An, can you show Su Biyu to the girl’s dormitories? And Meng Xiao, go to bed properly. You look like you are going to fall asleep where you stand.”

“Yes, Shizun!” “Yeah, Shizun.”

“And Wan Yu, can you show me to the guest residence where Tian Han stays?” Since any visitation was always initiated by Tian Han, admittedly, Fu Ran didn’t have the faintest clue where the other man lived.

Without fail every morning, oftentimes even before his disciples, Tian Han would be waiting at his garden entrance. Some days he would have a gift in hand, or some sweet treats, but he would always wait until noticed.

Even if he was ignored, he would only wander in once Fu Ran had seen him.

“Alright,” Wan Yu agreed.

Far away, on the opposite side of the mountain sect were the guest buildings. It was quite literally as far away as possible while still residing on An Xian Yun Peak.

Technically Xingti Pavilion wasn’t located within the sect walls, and instead just just outside of the tall white barriers. To Fu Ran’s dismay, this separated him from the rest of the sect’s important buildings. Most conveniences were far from his residence.

Before him, his Shizun lived there too, so he would never complain. Especially not when the teahouse was a gift given by Yi Yang.

Passing through the Xing Xing Entrance Hall, and into the main bulk of An Xian Yun Peak, people were not shocked to see a handful of disciples out late. However, many stared in awe at the Peak Master who followed them. They even gossiped boldly without shame.

“Is that really Master Fu?”

“Why is he here?”

“He went out on a mission recently. I overheard it from Master He.”

“Hopefully he didn’t bring more bad news.”

Fu Ran’s lips turned into a frown.

It’s not like I’m forbidden from being here. I am a Peak Master as well. He mentally groaned. This is the exact reason he had asked Zhi Lao for so many favors.

If needs needed met, one would be forced to travel through these walls of Xing Xing Pavilion. When Zhi Lao would bring him a stock of food or clothes, it came from passing through these walls. When Zhi Lao had taken his books and papers, and returned them to the library and records hall, they were taken past these walls. Fu Ran was lucky to have a bath in his home, or else that luxury might have been taken from him too.

“Night, Shizun,” Meng Xiao called loud enough to startle some of the gossiping onlookers.

The sweet action didn’t go unnoticed, but Fu Ran only gave a small whisper of “goodnight” in return. The group of disciples all split up, save for Wan Yu, who was left to guide his Shizun’s trip.

A few odd paths twisted and winded to the far right side of the enclosed sect. Here, a few smaller buildings were located—smaller in comparison to a Peak Master’s home—but somehow bigger than Xinti Pavilion. The areas of Xing Xing Pavilion were so sterile and white compared to the traditional wooden look of his own home. It was certainly not to his taste.

“This is where Gege stays. Gege won't mind if you go in without asking.” Wan Yu gave a small bow before he began to leave. Something must have startled him into turning back around, “Can you make it home on your own? Or Should I wait and walk you back?”

Fu Ran blinked a few times before squinting. Shouldn’t he be the one saying that? “What is your dad even teaching you?” He sighed out his disappointment in Tian Han. Those were not the words a child should be speaking.

“How to be respectful.”

“Can you even write the word “respectful” at your age, Wan Yu?”

Wan Yu’s was clearly aghast. He stammered unconvincingly, “Of course I can!” When the boy showed his emotions so blatantly, like that little stomp of his feet or the touch of embarrassment on his cheeks, it made Fu Ran feel like he knew him better.

In a panicked frenzy, Wan Yu didn’t allow time for Fu Ran to laugh. He yelled a sharp “Goodnight, Shizun!” before running away towards the dormitories.

“Hah hah! And just like that, he’s gone,” Fu Ran chuckled, “Like he was afraid I’d pull out a brush and paper, right here!” Amused, he covered a wide beam with his sleeve.

Seeing the boy act like normal, eased some of his lingering worries about that mark on the back of his neck. Though, now that he arrived home, he would start looking into some way to remove it.