As Zhichao Tingfeng had suggested, Xiao Fan did her best to eat. She wasn't really sure why he had mentioned it - maybe his brain was just elsewhere - but it proved as much of a struggle as any of the other motions she had needed to re-learn. Taking a pear from the storehouse before they began their brisk march, Xiao Fan buried her teeth into the soft, supple pearflesh - to find that, much like every other sensation, her taste was dampened at best.

It still felt good in her mouth, at least - the remembered tactile action of consumption, the mouthfeel of fresh fruit upon her tongue and between her teeth... It was comforting, in a way. Comforting that she had, at some point, needed to do that. It was only once she swallowed the mouthful of now-mashed pear that she realized how impossibly hungry she was. Before, there had been a void. A sort of zen absence within her, situated directly in the pit of her gut. She had been able to exist without food, and she had been able to continue on through force of will. She hadn't realized, until the fruit slid down her gullet, how ravenous she felt.

Every part of her being cried out for more. Whereas touch and pain were distant from her, this dire need to eat? It came in full force, fuller force than she had ever experienced. She almost immediately began to fantasize while she walked, going blank to the pear juice dribbling down her face while she chomped. Pheasant with soy sauce... Duck with crispy skin... Even something as simple as a big bowl of rice with a little gravy seemed as if a blessing from heaven to Xiao Fan. If her body was still warm, her tummy would be growling like a caged tiger.

As they continued their march, down concealed trails in the dirt that wound through the wood, she picked every fruit she could grab easily. Her arms soon cradled a veritable cornucopia of produce. It was making her beautiful white tang suit all sticky. Zhichao Tingfeng noticed only after some time, and despite the seriousness of today's business, he found a smile to offer her. "Hungry, meimei? I told you to get something to eat as a joke, you know... Something about hungry ghosts. But, well, you seem to be living up to it, haha."

Xiao Fan tried to respond, but the soft fruit in her mouth began to spill when she tried, and she wasn't going to let it. A few ravenous munches later, and a powerful swallow to follow, and she spoke up. "Joke? I just assumed you knew more about this than you let on. You've got that sort of air to you, shushu." She wanted to add more about how his air of mystery was beginning to fade, but she doubted he'd appreciate that.

Plus, by shutting up, she got to eat more fruit.

Zhichao Tingfeng laughed at what she had said, reinforced by seeing her shovel a whole lychee into her gaping maw. "Oh, is that what you think? That your shushu is keeping secrets from you, omitting information, keeping you in the dark? I'll come clean, then: there are some things better left unsaid. But meeting Hao Ning... Perhaps I'll tell you later. Let's not worry about this now." And so they didn't, and once again, the soft silence of the forest embraced them. Birdsong and the rustling of leaves made a fine backdrop to their march.

In due time, the woods all around began to fall away - first thinning, then becoming sparse, then being swallowed up by boundless grasslands. Whereas the area around Er Xin was grassy but hilly, the flora here sprung up nearly to Xiao Fan's chin, and seemed to go on as far as she could see. A path remained, beaten through the myriad stalks of thick brush, but it was thin and had only seen light use. In the distance, where the path presumably trailed to, a single monolithic building peeked over the horizon line.

"Alright. Nearly there, Xiao Fan. Just... Let me do the talking, please. I know these people; their elder, at least. Please let me handle it." Zhichao Tingfeng turned his head once more, acknowledging Xiao Fan with a nod as he spoke. She bobbed her head in return, shoving the final piece of fruit - another pear, this one taken from back at the sect - into her mouth wholly.

They continued on, footsteps muffled in the soft dirt, vision all but completely obscured by weeds. It felt, in many ways, like a labyrinth - some elaborate construction, made simply to obstruct one's passage. The closer they got to the village, or what she assumed was the village, the louder the world around them seemed. They took a turn and Xiao Fan became aware of a rumbling, like flowing water crashing into a stone - another turn, and the rumbling revealed itself to be a crowd in the distance.

The crowd were shouting and bickering, raucous and rowdy. From what few snippets Xiao Fan could pry from the din, she caught Zhichao Tingfeng's name - she also caught a few accusations of his being a charlatan. A singular voice, proud and clear, pierced the cacophony at occasional intervals. This one was a voice of surety, one who was trying to calm the crowd, not rile them further. Time and time again, this voice offered rebukes to the rehashed arguments of the crowd, striking down their spite with a blade of verbal clarity.

In front of her, Zhichao Tingfeng snickered. He turned his head back to look Xiao Fan in the eye, giving her a wink before beginning. "Oh, this time they're mad at me, hm? Usually when they send for me, they're so worried... We made better time on our march than I usually do, though, so I suppose it's my fault." His snicker returned, turning into a full-blown cackle, though it was fought off by a stifling hand. Xiao Fan rolled her eyes at her mentor, making a mental note of what lay beneath his usual decorum.

One more turn, and then they were there - out of those grasses which were taller than a man, and into a small clearing crammed with villagers. Plain cotton robes did little to hide the hard-working physiques of the people of Xinmeijin, field-workers by trade if Xiao Fan had to guess. At their head, stood upon a raised platform of rough-cut planks, stood their village governor. He was a broad man, built like the oxen that plow the field, with a hair and beard of venerable white. The cane he leaned on did little to disrupt his aura of strength.

Zhichao Tingfeng drifted to the back of the crowd, feet and garments soundless as he drifted to the rear of the assembly. Xiao Fan came along with, slowly but surely, trying to emulate his discretion; she was just lucky that everyone was so focused on the governor. She had only a fraction of the agility Zhichao Tingfeng possessed, and it showed. Heavens, did it show.

The governor wasn't as dull as the rest of the townsfolk. He saw Zhichao Tingfeng almost as soon as the pair entered the clearing, but other than a twinkle in the eye and the twitch of his lips, he didn't react. Instead, he continued to address the townsfolk. "People of Xinmeijin! Please, calm down! I'm sure xiong Zhichao Tingfeng will be here in due time. The ruins of Tian Lei aren't so far away, and it's the early harvest season; he's most assuredly out and about. Now, to make sure we all remember: the outlaws are off in the northern fields. They have already ransacked a few of our farm houses, and taken some livestock for food. They are armed; do not go near the northern..."

He continued, in that same crisp, clear tone, but Zhichao Tingfeng was already moving. Xiao Fan couldn't help but grin at the cleverness of the governor's actions; she made a mental note to let her shushu know as much. Once they were away from the townsfolk, out of earshot, Zhichao Tingfeng pulled the dead woman aside to discuss. "Okay. You aren't dumb - you see what's going on. When we get there? I will worry about the ones with bows and arrows. There'll be some, for sure. You just..."

He trailed off as he considered the full weight of what he was about to say. A wry, reluctant sort of laugh came from him then, and he clapped an apologetic hand upon his student's shoulder. "You just... Fight the ones without bows and arrows. Anyone who isn't going to try and shoot us, I think you'll be able to handle them. And if you can't... Well, it's not like they can kill you." His earlier sprinkling of laughter returned in force as he finished his sentence. Xiao Fan broke into a similarly good-natured grin, rolling her eyes at Zhichao Tingfeng, letting free a performative groan.

"Yes, shushu, let's go... I don't know. Dispatch them? Is that a thing martial warriors say? Dispatch... Seems so fantastical. Are we trying to kill them?" She cast a quizzical glance to her mentor. It was a concept she was... surprisingly ok with. She didn't feel bad at all about the concept of ending lives; not that they were 'human' lives, anyways, she reasoned. They were bandits, and bandits killed people... So in reality, she was saving lives by potentially slaying them. The shorter their own lives, the longer the lives of others would be. Yes. That made perfect sense to her.

She tried not to consider the fact that one of her victims may end up like her.

The pair shared a nod, and began to move once more. Xiao Fan looked to the rest of Xinmeijin as they briskly walked, drinking it all in. The buildings were nicer... Still made of wood, of course, but the planks had been crafted with more skill, the shingles given a more radiant glaze. Even the work carts, full of bushels of grain and fruit, seemed to be in better condition than those in Er Xin. It was... strange, to really consider. Of course it didn't matter anymore... But when she was alive? When Er Xin still existed? She would have burned with envy.

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They stomped past a local tavern, and instantly, Xiao fan was drooling. Not literally, but figuratively. She would have been shocked if she began to actually drool. Still, the scent of hot, fresh food... Noodles with broth, from the aroma permeating the air? It put an extra pep in her step, though her focus shifted away from the town's prosperity, and towards stuffing her face. She longed for the warmth of broth in her gullet. She yearned for the slippery sensation of noodles trailing down her throat, no need to chew, she barely needed to breathe. Maybe they'd add some rice, or some meat, if she asked nicely?

The daydream became vivid. Herself, surrounded by bowls of noodles and rice, plates of food, jars of wine... The savoury tang in the air, the tender spice of ginger mingling with cinnamon and fried bread, the luscious heat of mapo tofu and chili-laden curry, each and every aspect of them so tantalizingly close and agonizingly far. In her dream, she could eat it all, as much as she wanted, as quickly as she wanted. They'd probably even bring her seconds, or thirds, or fourths...

She blinked absentmindedly, brain urging her to make a motion no longer necessary from muscle memory alone, and when her eyes opened anew, she was at the edge of the field. Zhichao Tingfeng was scanning the horizon, eyes tracing the silhouettes of every farm house, every tree, every stalk of grain. He was silent, but there was intense focus in his gaze. Xiao Fan turned back to look to Xinmeijin, wondering to herself just how far they had walked. What had she missed? Had he spoken to her? Had she missed any advice?

It didn't matter now. Zhichao Tingfeng spoke up, piercing the otherwise calm air in the field. "Alright, Xiao Fan. There are a group of them in that farm house there, just down the path. I can hear them, eating and drinking someone else's food. I bet the home's owner wouldn't mind if you finished their meal for them after you deliver justice, eh? You go. I'll head towards the treeline - a different group is burning a campfire there, and looks larger. We'll meet up..." He raised a hand, pointing at a large, well-maintained home further down the path, set upon a hill with trimmed grass, surrounded by a thin copse of plum trees.

"...there. If you aren't there when I arrive, I'll come get you. Try not to let them cut off anything important or we'll have some explaining to do. Alright. Are we clear?" He shifted his eyes back to Xiao Fan, elegant features caught in the light of the sun. His expression was stoic now, brimming with determination, shielded by a wall of discipline. He took no joy in his work, it seemed, but he was dedicated to it.

Xiao Fan didn't need to hear anything past the initial promise of food, head bobbling as she nodded without a care for restraint. Her enthusiasm earned her a thin smile from her master, though she didn't respond or even acknowledge it. Her feet were already moving. Dead feet, clad in boots of soft ebon cloth, stomped down the path in an eager half-sprint. Her tangzhuang's ivory hue, and the pallor of her skin, made her whole body seem nearly monochrome. White silks and flesh, black hair and boots... Only the soft gold of her embroidery kept her from being entirely desaturated.

As she neared the home, she slowed her run to a jog, and then to a brisk walk. She could hear them inside, of course - three different voices, all eating and drinking and laughing and bantering. The aroma of fried pork punched through the air of harvest season, emanating from within the wooden hut, and Xiao Fan nearly cried out at its temptation. It brought speed once again to her footfalls, if only to draw her closer to the origin of that porcine perfume.

She padded up to the door of the home, and reached for the handle. Her fingers had only brushed the wooden bar of it before she recoiled her entire arm, thinking better of this approach. What would be the best thing to do? What would Zhichao Tingfeng tell her to do? She didn't really know; he had mostly been instructing her on martial arts, and even then, he seemed the type to prefer subtlety. Xiao Fan didn't want to be subtle. As she prepared to open the door, she thought back to her last day in Er Xin.

How had the bandits made her feel? Scared. Terrified. Both for herself, and for her friends and family. The love of her life... Everything she had worked so hard to build, more than twenty years of life, suddenly in jeopardy. It had been so easy for Tang Shun to kill her. He hadn't felt even the slightest bit of guilt about slaughtering Er Xin and its people, about ending lives and snuffing dreams and memories that could fill a library. All he had done was laugh and gloat.

Nothing could bring them back. Nothing could remedy that fear she had felt, a fear she still felt when she thought of Zhang Daiyu. Nothing could right the wrong inflicted upon her village. She had been blessed by the heavens to continue living so that she could offer up the next best thing: bloody revenge.

Without even thinking, Xiao Fan got up on one foot and struck out with the other, putting everything she had into the blow without even considering it. The thin wooden door splintered immediately, sundered in twain, both halves pulled from their hinges and sent flying into the room. The bottom half clattered to the ground; the top half struck one man in the face immediately, contact made with a sickening, satisfying crunch as his nose collapsed. The other two men were too shocked at first to get up from where they sat, wooden plates of pork fried rice sat before them. It took Xiao Fan stepping into the room and baring her teeth for them to realize what was happening.

Rage pumped through Xiao Fan like a drug - that ice around her heart had fully melted now, but her emotions didn't simply seem to have returned. No, in this moment, in the heat of battle? They felt stronger than they had ever been. Her body was barely in her own control, her actions subconscious as she rushed the pair at the table, raising her hands to engage them. The first man drew a sword while the second fiddled with his scabbard. Not that it would matter much, Xiao Fan managed to think to herself.

The sword was swung, amateurishly, from left to right - tracing an edged horizon through the air. Xiao Fan struck without even considering it, her fury moving her body for her, reminding her of the motions she had just spent all night practicing. Her own left hand moved quicker than the eye could see, middle knuckle of middle finger pushed forth. In the blink of an eye, she had made her move.

The man cried out in pain, eyes snapping wide, full moons in a clear sky of anguish. His sword dropped uselessly, hand drooping with all the function of a snapped tool. Though her knuckle was anything but sharp, blood still poured from his now-open skin - protruding bones and ruptured veins ensured a clear path for red to paint the hut's interior. As he staggered back, beginning to mouth the words to apologize, Xiao Fan lashed out again. Her right hand struck with the force of a lightning bolt upon the bandit's throat, right where Zhichao Tingfeng had told her to aim.

Its efficacy was undeniable. The bandit's apology would never see its completion. The bandit himself? Would never see the outside of this shack again. Instantly, a deep purple bruise blossomed upon his neck - and as his eyes glazed over from unconsciousness, a thick gout of blood poured from his mouth. Soon, the hemmorhage beneath his skin had caused a notable swell, and so damaged was the skin that it gave way from the pressure. More gore painted the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. And Xiao Fan's tangzhuang. She'd deal with that later.

The man who had been struggling to draw his blade screamed in terror; his friend, the one with the broken nose, pushed the half-door off of himself and surveyed the scene. Xiao Fan wanted to slay them both where they stood - every fibre of her being was screaming at her to continue, to slaughter, to rampage. The warmth in her arms was a distant memory; instead, a new warmth filled her entire body, every strand of muscle, every layer of skin. Her bones felt hot, like iron rods heated at the forge. Her core, that spiritual, indefinable thing that she considered the 'self' within her detached physique?

It crackled and smouldered like a tree stricken by lightning. Like before, the roots went out - this time, they were tendrils of electricity that invigorated every inch of her being. She could feel her own body down to the merest hair on her neck, or the folds of her organs... And, to her dismay, the now-moving blood in her veins. The blood was as hot as a flame, warming her otherwise cold form to the point of some pale imitation of life. It was moving. Why was it moving? She was dead.

She should have been dead, at least. Why did she feel alive?

Thoughts for later. Thoughts for later, once she could gorge herself at the tavern. Her moment of introspection gave her opponents the time to arm themselves, both holding their swords out at her like they were staving off a dangerous animal. She found herself unable to care. In fact... She approached the one with the broken nose, walking straight at his extended sword. Familiar warmth rippled through her stomach as it was pierced and spread, cold steel meeting hot blood and warm, excited flesh. No pain came - but blood aplenty poured out, staining her outfit, and bringing the bandit to tears.

If such an injury couldn't stop her, what could? Could anything?