Su Biyu stood between the current threat of battle, her small form shielding Fu Ran and Tian Han. She had thrown herself in the way, arms outstretched like a fragile barrier, and her twin tails whipped as she shook her head.

“Please, don’t kill him!” Su Biyu’s voice cracked, desperate. “I’ve changed my mind! I don’t want to be a part of something like this!”

Her words echoed through the shrine, like she was holding back a torrent of tears. The action was fitting of her age. Her appearance was shocking because he had been too busy to notice her presence earlier.

“Su Biyu…?” Fu Ran questioned. “By gods, where have you been?”

“Shizun, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!” She sobbed genuine apologies, but her shoulders shook with such an intensity that Fu Ran’s heart ached. He had already deduced that she had been involved, because no one else could have drugged his disciples, but this negative response showed her regret.

Sweat began to coat the back of Fu Ran’s neck, and he swallowed thickly. I can barely protect Tian Han, let alone adding a disciple onto that, too.

If nothing else, the child's sobbing halted the tenseness in the room, as it seemed her sudden appearance brought a shred of doubts into the eyes of the golden masked man. He didn't want to strike her down either, and this was clear in his shaking hesitation.

“There's been an emergency.” A whisper pulled at Fu Ran’s attention. Creating an even tighter crampedness in the room, his identical fake had returned to the side of the golden masked man. Though this time, his face was even whiter than usual—like he had seen a ghost. He held his palm up to his lips to muffle quiet conversation. “Trouble has come earlier than anticipated.”

“Your Shixiong? Then we should go. Concealing our presence from the sect is more important than the Tyrant Emperor.”

“But-!”

“There will be more opportunities, Fu Ran.”

Was he hearing that correctly? Fu Ran’s eyes shone with a glimmer of hope. Zhi Lao and Shesui Lang?

He had successfully called them the night prior, explaining the situation, but they jumped quicker than he thought possible for those two. Well, Shesui Lang was one to take his time on all matters other than work, but Zhi Lao would have shown up immediately had he been able. Fu Ran’s hand limply clutched at the white robes over his chest, and a grin tugged at his lips.

Then I must just hold off a little longer—! Fu Ran’s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp glare.

Matching lavender eyes met their reflection, and the impostor brushed his bangs to the side. With the terrifying weight of quiet thoughts, he raised his chin and grimaced when his gaze fell upon Tian Han.

Just what kind of history did they have?

“Fine. Then so be it,” said the impostor.

Huh? Those were not words of anger or provocation, instead they were things often said when thinking of giving up. Confirmation came quick when the two men took tentative steps towards the broken wall.

Fu Ran’s hand instinctively shot out, fingers trembling with a strange urgency, and the words tore from his voice, “No, wait—!” That man still had Shi Wei Ji, and only a few steps away felt like such a great distance. It was an insurmountable amount of space that so easily filled him with dread.

He barely moved before small arms clung to his waist. “Shizun, please!” Su Biyu cried louder.

Fu Ran froze. Her hold was weak, her cries fragile, but something about them anchored him in place. Yet she couldn’t possibly understand. A spiritual weapon wasn’t just steel—it was a cultivator’s soul, an extension of their very being. Letting it go meant letting a part of himself slip away.

But his hand shivered. Right now those pale, and bony fingers, bore not an ounce of spiritual energy left over.

This was a chillingly mortal feeling.

Su Biyu wouldn’t let him take even a step, and so he was forced to watch as the other cultivators stood upon Shi Wei Ji and flew without sparing him a single glance.

A dryness covered the back of his throat and, no matter how many times he tried, he found it hard to swallow the growing anxiety.

Useless…

How utterly useless.

Tian Han coughed from behind him, and Fu Ran’s neck nearly snapped back to see. Even Su Biyu grew quiet. She muttered, “Tian-Shibo looks really bad.”

“He… he does.” Fu Ran said. He pressed his palm to the barrier to release it, and when he closed his eyes, he tried conjuring up spiritual energy.

It’s not working. He mentally lamented.

Tian Han’s chest heaved, and his body shook wildly out of usual rhythmic breathing. Any color on his face, once the lovely tint of warm jade, had now paled nearing comparable hues to the evil spirits that were escaping to The Faceless City. Fu Ran slammed the side of his fist into the barrier he made, but it did not budge.

Frantic, Fu Ran called. “Tian Han!”

The barrier didn't so much as shake, though the calls of his name stirred Tian Han to move. When he shifted, he choked. Red pooled from his lips like a river, and his nails dug into the wood flooring. He was in pain.

“Shizun, can you take it down?”

“I can’t.”

Su Biyu made a noise as if she was troubled, a small whine, “You are shaking. Maybe you just need to breathe.”

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Her words were correct, but he most certainly wasn’t shaking. Fu Ran couldn’t believe he had fallen into such a state—especially not over the Tyrant Emperor, of all people.

The… Tyrant Emperor…

Tian Han.

His cheeks were burning hot, and the underside of his hand hurt with the force he had repeatedly slammed down. Shi Wei Ji was gone, and his disciples were not present. Fu Ran was feeling a crushing stress that he hadn’t felt since his studying days. Back then, he could have relied on his Shixiong, or his Shizun, but now he was left with nothing but his own hands. And they had proved once again that they were not good enough.

Injured or not—he was not good enough.

A chilled hand touched Fu Ran’s cheek, forcing him to turn and face the young Jinan girl. Su Biyu was pale too, like Tian Han. Her lips quivered, just like Lin An’s would before she would burst into tears, but she wore such a strong expression. Something about that appearance was familiar: a real prodigy, and one who was willing to remain calm in the face of bad situations. Unyielding and unbending.

How could his would-be disciple be even more collected than him? Fu Ran pulled a blurry gaze back to Tian Han. Pressing his fingers back into the translucent protective barrier, he tried again.

Time passed strangely while Fu Ran tried to break his own spell, and he could not differentiate seconds and minutes. The only show of time was that Tian Han’s face was no longer twisted and wincing, and it had fallen back into a look of peace. In a sense, that look only added to his worrying.

At least when Tian Han groaned or coughed, those actions showed that he was undoubtedly alive. However now, he looked like he was sleeping, and his chest barely moved.

Words from outside the shrine passed by in a hurry. “Zhi-Shidi! There’s less over here! Can you handle the rest?”

Taken aback by the familiar voice Fu Ran perked up. The sound of his martial brother came from outside the shrine building. “Shixiong?” He called.

Shesui Lang landed heavy-footed onto the shine walkway with a haste leap. It had been so long since Fu Ran had seen those pretty bright colors, that he was nearly moved again by the unexpected comforts they brought. Unexpectedly, Shesui Lang’s gaze fell upon Fu Ran faster than he could halt his body, so his feet lagged a few steps before stopping.

“There you are!” Shesui Lang began, his voice lifting, but it faltered as he finally took in Fu Ran’s appearance. His feet ground to a halt, as if struck by an unseen force.

Fu Ran didn’t have to look to know why. His face was still hot from the tears, cheeks flushed, and eyes raw. To make the sight worse, his white sleeves and chest were covered in unfamiliar blood, masking the fact that he was mostly without external injury. But Shesui Lang couldn’t have known that, so he held his water blade in hand and stood rigid in the center of the room.

With a strained tone, Shesui Lang uttered breathlessly, “Fu Shidi, what happened—?”

“Please, save Tian Han!” Fu Ran interrupted, the words escaping before he could soften them. Desperation clung to his voice.

Shesui Lang blinked, momentarily stunned by the outburst, before his eyes flicked to Tian Han, trapped behind a barrier. Shesui Lang shook himself out of his apparent daze, and was beside the disciple-teacher combo in an instant. Just one look and he would have seen that Tian Han’s condition was critical.

Forcing a smile, Shesui Lang raised his hand up to the protective spell walls. “Go help Zhi-xiong fight, okay? She-xiong will handle Tian Han and this little one.” Despite his serious face of fright moments ago, Shesui Lang put on his usual exuberant tone to offer comfort. But the bad news needed to be broken.

“Shi Wei Ji was… taken. And half my body was injured. I think I will be useless.” Fu Ran pitifully turned his gaze away.

Shesui Lang blinked, and his fingers twitched against the barrier. “Taken?” His questioning look fell to Fu Ran’s hip, where there rested no pure white sword, and he pursed his lips into a straight line. “Then… just—just stay near me.”

His words were rarely comforting, but his Shixiong could be trusted when it came to important matters: both of them. Even from the comforts of the shrine building, and the darkness from the roof over his head, the sounds of slaughter reached Fu Ran’s ears with ease. Sounds of a heavy blade swinging and slashing mixed in with the squelching of thick blood.

Su Biyu clutched onto Fu Ran. She wasn’t even a disciple, and yet she was having to witness horrors. Her face was still pale and her grip only wavered when her body shivered. This seemed to happen each time there was a loud yell from outside—the voice of Zhi Lao.

Fu Ran pulled the young disciple closer. “There there, calm down… Zhi-Shixiong will help,” Fu Ran muttered. Zhi Shixiong will help. Despite it all, his anxiety wouldn’t go away.

“So, what’s earned your worry this time, princess?” Shesui Lang had broken the barrier by now, and moved Tian Han onto his back. Spiritual energy was pooling into his chest at quite the alarming rate, and even Shesui Lang couldn’t hide the sweat beading down his brow.

Fu Ran forced his forehead to uncrease and relax, since his expression had already been caught. He said simply, “Wan Yu.”

“He’s fine.”

“Where is he?”

Shesui Lang playfully raised one hand, and pressed a finger to his lip. “We cleared out the road, so we told him to hide and wait. He’s a pretty quiet one, do you think he will listen?”

“Not a chance.” Wan Yu held just as many bad habits as Tian Han, and from his behavior during the Bloody Entrance Exam, he wasn’t very good at following basic orders—and was willing to jeopardize his own safety.

A few hours had passed since Fu Ran first left Jinan this morning. The loss of Shi Wei Ji made his side feel so empty, and the quiet of the abandoned shrine was far too overwhelming. He found that the only sense of comfort came from pulling his knees up against his chest, and watching silently as Shesui Lang healed Tian Han. If even the gaudy Peak Master had no energy left for words, then Fu Ran should not spare them either.

“Shizun,” but someone was willing to break the uneasy atmosphere. “Shizun, can I… still call you that?” Su Biyu asked warily.

What a silly question, Fu Ran mentally chastised. “You may.”

“Oh? Is this the kid?” Shesui Lang blinked tiredly before beaming, “Congrats on becoming a disciple of An Xian Yun Peak. Do you know how hard it was to convince the Peak Elder to let a disciple come in without an exam?”

“Oh…” Su Biyu looked distraught, and her brows were knitted tightly together. “I… I don’t know if it’s still possible.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Fu Ran asked. With a single wave of his hand, he brushed off Shesui Lang’s intervention and questioned the small girl.

“I did something bad.”

Fu Ran crossed his arms. “But did you choose it? It sounds like you have a lot on your mind, but perhaps it’s not the right question.”

“But—”

“But? Did you plan to set us up?” Fu Ran rested his arms on his knees.

Su Biyu’s eyes widened in horror at his word choice.

It took her a few moments, but eventually she spoke coolly, “I did do that. I was told that you would likely free us in the auction house. I was promised that I would never be put back… if I could follow you around and keep tabs on where you visited. Pretend to be friends and… eat breakfast together and… have fun with the others and...” Her sentences jumbled together.

The confidence she had feigned seemed to shatter when she was forced to explain her feelings. “But I didn’t expect it to be so nice? Shizun I—” She choked those words out in between messy whines.

Fu Ran couldn’t watch the struggle, and he offered her gentle words: “It’s okay.” Words that are rarely given to a child who has done wrong, are oftentimes the ones they need to hear most.

“Su Biyu, can I ask you something else?” When the girl cleaned the corners of her eyes, she gave a small nod, so Fu Ran continued. “Do you still want to become my disciple? If you don’t—”

“I do!” She interrupted.

“Then what purpose is there in holding hatred towards a girl who was only doing what she felt she had to? If she wishes to become a proper disciple, then the past is the past.”

She seemed in disbelief, but this declaration also seemed to attract the prying eyes of Shesui Lang. His expression was harder to read than hers, but his brows did seem drawn together in frustration.

“Really?” Su Biyu asked.

Fu Ran nodded. Though he was shocked to see this simple action open up the floodgates. She began to bawl no differently than another one of his dear disciples, and sloppily crawled to his side. She dug her nails into his gray robes, and pressed her wet cheeks into his shoulder.

He really didn’t mean to make babies cry, despite the fact that he felt it had become a frequent event as of late.