“I knew it! You can hear me, so. Please, start heading back to the entrance! I am on the road coming to you. I’ll handle those demons. Now, Retreat!” Fu Ran tried to keep his cool, but there was a hint of wild sway in his voice. For once in the last few years, he wanted to act like a proper Shizun. He had hoped his little disciple hadn’t heard the graceless shakiness.

Wan Yu’s body language showed hesitation in obeying orders, and his feet defiantly planted him to the ground. Wan Yu swung at the demons that got too close to him, but he didn’t make much move to fight them either.

In a commanding tone, Fu Ran spoke again, “Wan Yu.” The name came out callous and cold. As a teacher, he had learned to be strict in emergencies.

“Okay. I will meet up with Shizun,” Wan Yu murmured softly. He gave one final kick to the demons before Fu Ran could see him listening to orders and turning to retreat.

Good! Good, filial disciple.

The pathing had grown narrow around these parts. The rocks shot up tall, some as tall as Fu Ran. Others were easily three times as such. The further he had wandered down, the more he saw of the view of branchy trees he saw from up above. They lacked green leaves, but their branches were easily enough to conceal things that might have tried to use them as a method of disguise. After all, the cultivators weren’t on their home turf here, and there were countless potential unseen dangers. His eyes watched carefully as he progressed deeper into the trees.

There should have still been more disciples here, but he hadn’t seen any. It bothered him even more that there were no sounds of crying, or fighting.

Coming to a realization that had made Fu Ran worried, he held the Jade Mirror up to his face once more. He was still a Shizun at heart, and he had raised his own disciples before. Those children were currently his responsibility.

But… No matter how many times he swiped at the little mirror in the palm of his hand, no other images were shown. Why?! Fu Ran was in a panic. He repeatedly ran his finger along smooth Jade. The image shown was just Wan Yu. Another swipe. Smooth Jade. Again. Wan Yu… Smooth Jade! Just Wan Yu!

Where were the little ones? Only about 15 had made it back to the encampment. There should be no less than 30 children in total! Yet the mirror shows none? Fu Ran had been moving quickly through tree trunks. He waded through the knee high red brush spread randomly throughout the branchy woods. He was moving absentmindedly, and desperate.

“A-Wan!” He yelled out. Fu Ran was probably being louder than he should have been. Yet more loudness came when his footing was misplaced, and he had fallen over a large tree branch half obscured in red leaves. Fu Ran let out a pained sounding groan as he caught himself on dirt. The front of his ankle still rested on the fallen branch.

His body went rigid as his mind began to reflect on the feeling below. It felt wrong. He hadn’t yet pulled himself to stand back up. His hands were planted firmly on the ground and he lay there motionless for a moment.

It was far too soft.

An unwanted glance caused a sickening feeling to well up his stomach. A small body lay in the middle of the small path he was running. He had kicked it accidentally and caused his own fall.

Fu Ran took in a sharp inhale of breath and was suddenly overwhelmed by a metallic smell in the air. The scent hadn’t even hit him until he investigated the body. It was such overwhelming hints of sweat and iron. His nose curled up at the assault.

Trembling shoulders made it hard for the teacher to reach his hand towards the young boy. His fingers froze inches away. Fu Ran didn’t know his name, and didn’t know his face. His lips twitch causing his mouth to pull creases at the sides of his mouth. This could have been a future disciple of An Xian Yun Peak. His shaking hand calmed only when it was placed onto the boy’s face. Fu Ran moved the face in his palm to better inspect. The entire right side of this boy's face had been attacked by claws, a small hint of white shone through the cheek. Fu Ran watched red drops fall onto the earth and seep into the dirt. Blood dripped out in sticky strands, like web.

The boy’s faint heat was still there, but upon feeling his neck, there were no signs of life. The Peak Master didn’t know why he had tried to check. He was acting mostly on instinct and habit. Fu Ran’s hands moved upwards on this small sleeping face, and gently moved the young boy’s hair off of his forehead to get a look at his face. Despite the open wound on his right cheek, and the fleshy cuts around the same side of his neck, he was no different than any other living teenager.

His haggard breathing had forced him to really take it all in. This sickening, grotesque scent of blood and meat… was too strong to have come from a single body.

His gaze moved to the left and then to the right. “How?” He spoke. He hadn’t expected his own voice to sound so pitifully quiet. Fu Ran’s body reacted and he heaved, quickly shutting his mouth tight in an attempt to block any bile

There were children and masters discarded like trash.

Some bodies had been piled near one another. Perhaps they landed that way when they fell, or perhaps they were merely tossed to the side after being impaled on weapons and claws. Others had been thrown around wildly, not even taking the time to keep them with their own limbs. Fu Ran didn’t know how long he sat still.

The nauseating sight, and the slow loss of blood began to mix up his thoughts. His body threatened to faint with every passing minute.

“Calm down,” wasn’t working anymore. His mantra he had repeated over and over again wasn’t working. The beats in his chest grew louder, and fast. His heart was beating obnoxiously in his chest and ears. Every inch of veins were pulsating with each thump. With the hand not holding onto the bloodied child, he clutched at the robes over the offending organ. He just wanted to rip it out!

“Shizun,” said a voice, familiar, yet despondent.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Abruptly, Fu Ran’s eyes shot open wide and his skin paled further. Cold Sweat poured down his neck. He was being swallowed by noises, the sounds of mere mortal, bodily functions drowning out rational thought. His eyes went to the first place they could think of: the deceased would-be disciple who he rested his hand on. He held his breath, as if he were waiting on the body to look up to him and call him by that title.

Fu Ran heard small crunching footsteps. “Shizun, that boy won't call to you.” This time he recognized the voice was clearly Wan Yu’s. He didn’t know how it had escaped him last time. A twinge guilty, Fu Ran slowly pulled his eyes to look at the young disciple.

Wan Yu had sustained more injuries than when Fu Ran saw him in the Jade Mirror. He had more blood stains on him now, and his body was painted heavier in bruising. The small sword, suited to the size of his body, trailed a line of blood behind him as he stepped. For a moment Fu Ran’s brain blanked. He felt he was really losing all control as a Master of An Xian Yun Peak.

“A-Wan, did you not listen to me at all?” His voice was not loud, but it warbled in disbelief that he even had to ask that question.

“I just came to meet with you as promised, Shizun.” Wan Yu’s voice held no tremble or fear that should have been present in a small child. Fu Ran leaned in towards Wan Yu in a fury. He gripped onto his shoulders and gave him a shake.

Fu Ran, normally so tender and gentle, spoke in a cold tone, “You kept fighting those demons didn’t you? Answer this Shizun!”

Wan Yu stiffened, hesitating for only a moment. “Yes, Shizun. This one knows he broke orders. He didn’t want to see Shizun getting any more injured than he already was…” The only subtle change that Fu Ran could see was a tinge of guilt as his eyes dropped to the dark ground. “The Threat is gone, for now. Let this disciple show you somewhere safer. Not here, though. Wan Yu spoke seriously, his tone not shifting much at all. Except for when he hissed out “here”. He carefully took a moment to swing his blade and whip off excess blood. Wan Yu was already being proactive by scanning the rest of the tree line. He didn’t give the bodies around him a second glance, and merely scanned over them as if they were rocks.

“Stay by me, and don’t run off,” Fu Ran said, pulling himself fully to a stand, wobbly. Wan Yu didn’t hesitate to give a nod. “Do you still have those flares? We cannot leave these bodies here… If they cannot return home and rest; I dare not imagine the future of their spirits.” Fu Ran held out his hand, and within a moment of searching through his belongings, Wan Yu presented the three small little lavender wrapped sticks.

Fu Ran took one, and broke this stick in hand. He held the bottom end up to the clouds, and parks flew as it shot a large firework up into the sky. Loud lights slowly fell and danced over the treeline. “Someone must have seen that, I just don’t know if they can spare the people at the present.” Fu Ran waited around for only a moment, in silence for the fallen. However, he wasn’t given the opportunity to inspect the injuries of the others.

There was a noise.

He gripped Shi Wei Ji. The noise was a crack of a branch, and when he turned to look he saw yet another Fall Corpse. With the loss of blood slowly taking into effect, his vision was hard to focus onto the new added enemy. Shit, he thought. I don’t know how well I can fight like this.

During the moments of clearer images, Fu Ran could see the Fall Corpse well. It was a young man who was dressed in more formal attire, rather than the robes of a cultivator, and the appearance seemed more well kept. Fu Ran didn’t know what that meant for its power, however the red tones on its wrists appeared paler. Usually that meant less demonic qi, or in other words: weaker.

“Shi Wei Ji, I shall guide your form. In turn, become my eyes,” his voice warbled and came out in unsteady breaths. Fu Ran gave his hand a flick, and the white sword swung around in his grip. With a deep breath, he took on a swordsman's stance. This was no time to faint.

Fu Ran lowered his eyelashes and allowed his blade to show him small snippets of a struggle. Shi Wei Ji flashed images in his mind. A straightforward attack, a jump, and a back attack for the neck, Fu Ran repeated mentally. When he opened his lavender eyes again, they took on a more serious appearance.

Quick cracking of branches made snapping noises one after the other. It was a bit faster than Fu Ran was expecting, but he was not unprepared. When the deceased royalty attacked him head on, he narrowly avoided getting sliced up the side.

His body was not fit for keeping up with battle after three years of reclusive behavior, but his footing was still well trained. Shi Wei Ji easily slashed through several parts of fine threads. The Fall Corpse jumped, nearly suspending itself in mid-air.

Fu Ran steadied his grip on his sword, a sharp glance revealing his careful calculation. In an instant, his gaze darted upward as he watched the demon hurtling toward him. He had seen this already once in flashes of visions, however his body wasn’t fully prepared for the weight of a grown man to crash into him.

While Shi Wei Ji did run through the demon’s entire torso in its fall, the Fall Corpse also dug claws into Fu Ran’s shoulder. Burning and searing pain ran through his shoulder and the base of his neck.

Fu Ran had gotten used to hearing “Shizun,” be called for him in shock. But this cry in particular made the little Wan Yu’s voice sound so desperate.

His fingers wrapped around his neck to try and calm the rushing blood. The capacity to think wasn’t something he could draw upon right now. He dropped to his knees.

“Shizun! Shizun!”

A-Wan this one adores you already, but can you really not speak more than one or two, “shizuns,” right now? But Fu Ram had immediately regretted the thought as he saw the redness that would come before tears. They were clearly threatening to fall. Those tears would be the end of him and his career as a Shizun, so he quickly tried to remedy the situation.

There there, A-Wan. No tears. Okay? His voice couldn’t actually offer the words of comfort, but his hand wouldn’t leave those fluffy brown locks of hair unpet.

Crack.

The hand running through Wan Yu’s hair went rigid. More? No. No. No. No more demons! Fu Ran had already tiredly picked up his silver blade. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the silhouette of a man and only a few details here and there. With his clear eyesight cutting out, he could mostly make out colors. Ashen brown hair, and light robes. The white robes had made him almost consider this man an ally, but no one he knew fit the build and hair color.

Besides, only a demon would choose to reside in the demon realm! Am I truly this cursed, that some unknown man will be the end of me? In every single turn of events?

Step. Crunching of leaves, and the snapping of branches under boots echoes in his ears. Crack. With each movement the unknown man made, Fu Ran’s heart beat again, even if it were not following its normal heartbeat pattern. Step. Shi Wei Ji had been brought up and lightly stuck into the ground and used as a mere prop. There was no more time to wait.

Just before the white sword could be lifted, Wan Yu stepped forward a few paces. Fu Ran’s eyes widened and his hands reached for his disciple. No you disobedient disciple of mine! You're going to be torn to bits and-!

“Gege?”

Gege? Fu Ran froze. Wan Yu said… Gege? He desperately wanted to focus his eyes. But he was fighting harder and harder by the second.

The man had moved closer to Fu Ran. “Are you alright?” His words sounded a bit panicked, and his hands caught the Peak Master before he could fall to soil. The two voices were talking gently to him. If the voices weren’t so vastly different, both in tone and inflection, his current messed up mind could have mixed up which voice belonged to his little disciple. Though the repeated calling of “Shizun,” was enough for Fu Ran to draw some conclusions. He had closed his eyes to rest for a moment. But perhaps a moment would take a little too long. He felt so cold.