Xiao Fan began to approach the bunkhouse, her red cheongsam all the more crimson in the amber light of the dawning sun. She had a celestial, angelic look, like an eighth fairy hidden from the storybooks - the sinister, barely-restrained sense of absolute hatred and malice behind her smile? It didn't really match the rest of her look. She took her time walking over, swaying her hips, flexing and unflexing her arms and legs. She felt the little black lump of dead flesh within her even more, now that she had heated her blood to flow... but even then, it was an afterthought in comparison to the absolute luxury of the power she was feeling.

The boy-barely-a-man in the bunkhouse tried, for the barest of moments, to duck back into the building and hope he hadn't been seen. Xiao Fan began to whistle, loud and clear, crisp in the cool morning air. The clarion call of her song was enough to convince the man he had been caught; he slid the door open, stepped outside, and dropped his sword. What more could he do? He had heard the screaming, of course - the pleading, the begging, the crying. He knew that whatever she could do, whatever she was about to do? He couldn't stop her.

He spoke up as she neared, bowing his head and shutting his eyes. "Ah, xiaojie... I surrender. I know you can kill me - I can see the blood on your body, and I know it's not only your own. I stand no chance against the martial masters of this world, so please, if you kill me, all I can ask is mak-" That was as far as the young man got, before Xiao Fan was upon him. Her left hand, arm still rippling from power unbound, clasped around his throat and squeezed his breath from him in a single, horrid croak. She squeezed, slowly but steadily, getting closer and closer to feeling his throat snap and implode beneath her vice-like force...

...and then she dropped him, taking a step back, her smile faltering. Something had struck her directly below the neck, between her shoulders, nearly piercing her spinal column. It felt warm... and as she came to her senses, eyes blinking and reopening with the sensation of pulling her head from a hot spring, she felt a calming, soporific sort of ecstasy trickle into her flesh. It was as if she had woken up from a dream - she looked down at herself and gasped, eyes wide, mouth agape. She was covered in blood, much of it her own, but more of it someone else's - she felt a lingering intensity in her left shoulder, but there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. She was outside now?

Oh fuck. Her right hand was calm enough to reach up to her back, where she had felt the impact; in the meantime, she stared in horror down at the young man at her feet, who lay unarmed, helpless, and caught in the throes of a coughing fit. She felt, for just a flash of a second, the urge to put her foot out and step on him - to crush his neck underfoot, or his manhood, or even just slam her heel into his stomach. Just as quickly as it came it fled, leaving only sickness and fear in its wake. She stepped back a few more feet, finally grasping her fingers around the object sticking from her back. It was worryingly familiar.

She drew the blackwood needle from her flesh with a sense of dread and wonder in equal measure. How did this get here? Who had stopped her? No, she knew who it was - and when she turned to check, her suspicions were confirmed. Hao Ning stood on the porch of the grand hall, legs trembling, face wracked with desperate emotion. She couldn't bring herself to speak, it seemed - she didn't need to. Xiao Fan knew what she would've said.

The martial disciple staggered closer to Hao Ning, falling to her knees in the process; she fought with the needle in her back to pull it free, but whenever she got a solid grasp on it, she couldn't bring herself to pull it free. She didn't want to release that beast again, no matter what the consequences... Not here, not now, not in front of her little sister. Her little sister? Was that what Hao Ning was to her, now? She blamed that thought on her own addled mind, but... In truth, she didn't hate how it sounded. They would make a horrible family, the three of them, but in a sort of fun way.

She thought, for just a moment, on Zhang Daiyu. Maybe she'd like to have a little sister, and an older brother.

And then she snapped back to herself, blood trickling down her arm from where she had earlier been cut, more crimson running hot and fast down her back. Her cheongsam was positively soaked at this point - and she could feel herself getting hungrier, too. Fuck. Something to deal with later - once the rest of this was all said and done. For now... For now she had to calm Hao Ning. That boy she had been about to kill, he knew his place; he knew he wouldn't last a second in a fight with her, and so he'd hopefully just lay there. Xiao Fan looked up to Hao Ning, gurgling something out amid the blood that had begun to drip into her throat from the needle's touch.

"Agh... Hao Ning, I... Thank you, a-Ning..." She wanted to say more, but she couldn't seem to force the words free. What could she say that she hadn't already said? 'Thank you for stopping me from killing a helpless man'? Hao Ning knew that's what she meant, surely... And if she didn't, Xiao Fan still hoped that her meimei knew that she would have regretted going through with it.

The door to the storehouse crashed outward, wooden shrapnel flying in a sliver-filled spray. The shards of wood were thrown haphazardly over Xiao Fan, sticking in her blood like sprinkles in ice cream; the wood chips that didn't stick simply fell to the ground, or caught in her hair. With them came a man, in fact: an older man, in his early fifties, if Xiao Fan had to guess. He was bleeding from the face and mouth, and his left arm was limp. He flew through the air and landed hard on the stone path, near Xiao Fan, his face already beginning to swell from his injuries. He groaned loudly, no sword to speak of, no threat to anyone at all - he was too badly injured to move, much less put up a fight.

Zhichao Tingfeng stepped out from the storehouse, grinning with a smug sort of confidence than gave Xiao Fan a chilling reminder of herself. However, he was without any injury; also unlike her, he didn't rush in for the kill, or have anyone's blood on him. He turned to look at Xiao Fan, and the smile on his face melted with the same sort of gradual destruction of an ice cube in the sun. He took a step over towards her, putting out a hand to help her up - and then he saw the needle in her back. He practically sprang to remove it, but Xiao Fan wailed at him, some final, desperate attempt to keep it where it was.

He didn't understand at first, but he knew what she meant - don't touch it. So instead, he settled for helping her up, taking her to her feet and slinging her right arm around his back to keep her there. She leaned into his partial embrace, careful not to jostle her back too much. With as good as she felt physically, she was an absolute emotional mess. Why was the comedown always like this, she wondered. Why did she only love killing in the moment - and if she loved killing in the moment of the action, why did she love it at all? Why did it do anything for her in the first place, if she hated it this much once she came to her senses?

These were questions she'd ask later, when she had time... and the undivided ears of her sect-siblings. For now, there were two men laying on the ground with varying sorts of injuries that needed attending to. Zhichao Tingfeng gave a firm-but-measured kick to the older brigand at his feet, causing the man to cough in pain and then let out a longer, more drawn-out groan. The man in the blue and grey wound back to kick his opponent once more, but upon feeling Xiao Fan tense up, he refrained. He couldn't see Hao Ning, it was true... but Xiao Fan didn't want the youngest of the three to see her older brother beat a man to death.

He sighed, then, turning to Xiao Fan with just his head. "What... happened to you? You're covered in blood, and that... needle is sticking from your back. Did Hao Ning stick you with it? That blood isn't yours, and you're warm... Oh, simei, what's happening to you...?" He tsk'd at her with a tone between reprimand and pity. Xiao Fan wished she had an answer for him, but instead, she could only silently nod when he asked about the needle, and whimper when otherwise questioned. He had read the very script of her heart: what was happening to her?

The man that Xiao Fan had been close to choking to death began to crawl over - still without his sword, still on all fours, but more put-together than he had been moments ago. He cleared his throat, half for his own benefit; when the assembled group turned to face him, he leaned down to kowtow. "Martial masters of this school... We are sorry f-for having intruded. We had only thought to rob whoever was looting this place... We did not know that it was still used. Please... Mercy..." He raised his head and lowered it, time and time again groveling like a dog for his and his friend's fates.

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Zhichao Tingfeng spit on the ground before the man, but then sighed. "You have made a grave mistake, not only by doing battle with us, but by making your bread off of the suffering of others. You deserve what comes to you for such cruelty, I should think... but also, your suffering has been enough. We will let you live, if you answer one thing for us - I am the master of this school, and so I can ensure your safety, so please, tell me." The young man stopped kowtowing after a few more bobs of his head, looking up then at Zhichao Tingfeng, eyes alert but free of any malice, like a lamb to slaughter.

Zhichao Tingfeng gestured with his free hand towards the man's sword, so far away, and then to the bruised and battered gentleman at his own feet. "Who arms you? Surely, you aren't on your own... Bandits who would be so confident as to fight other bandits over looting rights? Surely you must have a chieftain - a powerful one, too. What is his name, and where can he be found?" The silence that followed was nearly deafening - even the groaning man on the ground found the strength to be quiet in that moment. The wind itself seemed not to blow.

"...we serve Tang Shun. We were... recently recruited. We were living in Er Xin up until recently, just a few days ago. Tang Shun came and burnt it all to the ground, killing all but the most beautiful women and the strongest men. Those, he kept for himself, new soldiers and new slaves. We are... his men." The boy looked down at the ground, balling his left hand into a fist before raising it up and slamming it back down onto the cobbles. His placidity had taken all that it could handle - discussion of the warlord who owned him was more than enough to bring his own rage to the fore.

"That...! That bastard, he-! He killed my father in front of me, you know...! But when I tried to fight back, t-to die with honor, he simply had his men restrain me! They bound me with ropes, a-and gave me just enough to wear and wield that I could at least weigh down an enemy's spear in a real fight! I-!" He was cut off by Zhichao Tingfeng, who knelt now, bringing his simei with him. He put a finger to the young man's lips to silence him, then smiled sadly - his whole expression had softened, now possessed of a great sense of grief.

"You are not the only native of Er Xin here, boy. Do you recognize the woman in my arms?" Zhichao Tingfeng gently nodded his head to his simei. He could only widen that sad, pained smile as the boy's expression shifted from furious indignance to utter shock. Xiao Fan had been trying to hold back tears upon hearing the boy's story, but now, when she turned to look at him... Tears burst forth. She longed for the ice that had covered her heart only a day before - had it not been so shattered and salted by Zhichao Tingfeng and Hao Ning, perhaps she could have been more complete for this. Perhaps she would have been able to speak.

The boy stammered, recognition painted upon his face as he really, truly looked over Xiao Fan's face. His eyes snapped between Xiao Fan and Zichao Tingfeng on repeat, back and forth, forth and back, until finally he found the wherewithal to speak. "X-Xiao Zongying! The lady who lived on the hill, the rice farmer! We... We never spoke, but my... My father told me about you! The only woman he had ever met who took another woman to love... He a-admired that, I think! He always spoke kindly of you, and your rice - what under all the heavens has happened to you, xiaojie?!"

Xiao Fan's tears had mostly been silent up until this point. When he asked her that so directly, though? When he spoke as if he had known her before all this - as if his father had known her? As if she had been a fixture of a town that no longer existed? She practically fell to pieces in Zhichao Tingfeng's hold, dropping all her weight onto him to be held up. He obliged her admirably, and without comment; there was no need. Zhichao Tingfeng spoke where Xiao Fan could not.

"So, then, boy... If you are from Er Xin, and you and your father were amenable to my companion, then I will extend an offer to you: stay here. Don't return to your cruel master... But work with us, so that we may slay him, and free all your people. Xiao Fan wishes to enact revenge upon him - I wish to see all evildoers such as him die. You'll help us, won't you?" The martial cultivator's free hand went out and down, offered to the boy - and was swiftly, firmly, confidently taken. Their shared grip trembled from the force with which the young man took the other man's hand.

His eyes had begun to grow glassy and wet; his lower lip trembled even as his lips forced themselves into a smile. "Yes! Yes, shushu! Please, oh, please, allow me to assist you in whatever way I can! I'm... I may not have much training in combat, but I'm a skilled hunter and tracker! My father and I used to hunt pheasants and deer in the forests around our home, I'm sure I could be of some use!" His smile broke from mere lips to a full display of teeth, even as the tears welling in each eye dribbled to his chin. Zhichao Tingfeng nodded, helping the boy to his feel, and Xiao Fan along with him.

"Good, then. My name is Zhichao Tingfeng, and this, as you know, is Xiao Zongying, my simei. Also around here is... My meimei, Hao Ning, Xiao Zongying's other sifu. Don't... Don't go looking for her, she is an expert in the art of moving unseen. Even I have difficulty finding her nowadays, hahaha..." Once again, that dry Zhichao Tingfeng laugh rippled up from his chest, vocal cords twanging out a tune of dead mirth. The boy let go of his new superior's hand so that he could provide the traditional salute, balling his right hand into a fist and slapping it to his left palm.

The youth nodded as the salute was performed, then stood straight and proud and strong, as much as he could be of those three things. "My name is Cao Xin, sishu! It is... It is a great honor to meet you, and to know that at least Xiao Zongying survived the massacre. This meeting is an auspicious one, I can only think... Even if everything else has gone wrong, to know that there is hope..." Cao Xin blinked away tears for but a moment before rushing to embrace Xiao Fan and Zhichao Tingfeng. He squeezed them as tight as he could, and the tears flowed ever more freely.

The man on the ground gurgled, interrupting the otherwise touching moment. Zhichao Tingfeng seemed to have forgotten that the man was even there up until then - the others had most certainly put him from their minds. The last surviving member of the original Tian Lei sect gestured to the man on the ground, giving him a gentle tap - not a kick, though he was certainly tempted - with his right foot. The man groaned in response, rolling to the side to get away from Zhichao Tingfeng's foot.

"Who's this, then, Cao Xin? Your uncle? Grandfather? Someone you know at all?" Zhichao Tingfeng raised a brow quizzically, receiving the response he was expecting - and hoping - for. "I have no idea, sishu... He was assigned to our group, and we were sent out to the surrounding area to earn some money for Tang Shun. If we don't return within a week? He'll have us killed on sight, and send out one of his assassins to find us in our sleep. At least, that's what he said. So, no, I don't know this man - he's one of Tang Shun's flunkies." Cao Xin took the opportunity to do what Zhichao Tingfeng himself had been trying to hold back from doing.

The youngest man wound back and kicked the eldest hard on his tailbone, causing the latter to cry out and try to crawl away. Cao Xin spat at him, going to follow-up in his incensed state, but Zhichao Tingfeng held him back. Xiao Fan was silently relieved that he had. "Now, Cao Xin, that is enough. More than enough. This man? He is... no trouble to anyone at all, anymore. We will leave him on the roadside, and maybe a kind stranger will take him to nearby Xinmeijin. If not, then I'm sure a wild bear or tiger will give him what he deserves." That made Zhichao Tingfeng smile with a wry sort of delight, looking down at the nameless elder.

Xiao Fan managed to bring her tears to a halt then, casting her gaze to the only member of the new Tian Lei sect who the other members couldn't see: Hao Ning. The girl was standing over the last bandit present, making rude gestures and faces that only she knew she was doing. It made Xiao Fan laugh, at least a little - and laughing felt far better than the barrage of sorrow that she and Cao Xin had just gone through. She had never met Cao Xin, but his father, Cao Ping, had helped provide food for Xiao Fan and Zhang Daiyu's wedding. That thought made her smile, too.

And with Cao Xin's knowledge of where Tang Shun was located? Maybe Xiao Fan would get to see her wife in the flesh, not just the halls of memory, very soon...