Chapter 48: Standard Post-Trauma Sisterly Bonding

The ancient dawn serpent’s roaring tirade echoed through the mountains, each blast of spiritual energy demolishing peak after peak until it vanished into the distant clouds. Xiulan stared out across the lake, the entire valley writ with a trail of cataclysmic destruction.

Where pristine forest had stood, only splinters and crushed logs remained. The lake’s surface had dropped dramatically, exposing mud-slicked rocks along its banks.

Life crept back slowly. Massive tree-eaters lumbered through the destruction, claiming the few remaining stands of intact forest. Smaller creatures emerged from hiding places to scavenge through the wreckage. The surviving trees swayed in the spiritual-charged breeze, their leaves rustling with an almost metallic sound.

“Let’s get you dressed.” Xiulan supported Feng Yu as they made their way to the ancient oak that had somehow weathered the serpent’s rampage. Their travel pack still hung securely in its branches, protected by the tree’s surviving canopy.

Feng Yu remained oddly quiet while Xiulan helped her into fresh clothes. The spirit stones pulsed with healing energy as Xiulan pressed them against their injuries. The spiritual and physical damage faded, but exhaustion weighed heavily. Xiulan guided her companion back to their up-turned bell, but Feng Yu slumped against the bronze collection device, eyelids drooping.

“Rest here.” Xiulan squeezed Feng Yu’s shoulder. “I’ll gather what we can.”

Dawn serpent scales littered the ground like fallen leaves after an autumn storm. Each one gleamed with residual spiritual energy, creating a carpet of pearlescent light across the ravaged earth.

She moved methodically through the destruction, collecting scales one by one. Her secondary travel pack grew heavier with each addition. The sheer number of scales boggled her mind—thousands scattered in every direction.

Xiulan paused every few minutes, glancing toward the shore where Feng Yu slept against the bronze device. The scattered scales gleamed like fallen stars. Her pack grew heavier until the straps dug into her shoulders.

After two hours of gathering, her pack couldn’t hold any more. She returned to Feng Yu’s side, pressing gentle fingers against the other girl’s wrist to check her pulse. The qi flowed steadily through Feng Yu’s meridians, though weaker than usual.

The massive fireballs must have drained her completely.

There were limits to how many times you could refill your dantian in a short time, although she had never reached hers. Feng Yu had likely pushed far beyond normal limits.

Xiulan shifted to sit, guiding her friend’s head onto her lap. The devastation stretched endlessly, scattered with countless more scales from the ancient serpent’s massive form. A short while later, a movement caught her attention—a dawn serpent slithered past their position toward the lake, scales glinting in the light.

The air filled with a symphony of hisses. Xiulan stiffened as hundreds of dawn serpents emerged from the wreckage and tree lines, their scaled bodies flowing toward the water.

Was that ancient beast simply a little dawn serpent that grew massive over millennia? The thought sparked curiosity as she observed the smaller creatures dive into the lake—their ancestral home?

The implications twisted through her mind. In ten thousand years, would another monster emerge from the water? Would future cultivators face the same battle she and Feng Yu had barely survived?

Xiulan’s hand drifted to Feng Yu’s shoulder, gentle strokes meant to check on her companion’s wellbeing. Feng Yu responded by rolling closer, wrapping both arms around Xiulan’s waist in a vise-like grip.

“I’m not a pillow, Feng Yu.” Xiulan stiffened.

No response came except deeper breathing as Feng Yu burrowed closer, clearly claiming Xiulan as her personal cushion.

Okay, it turned out, she was indeed a pillow.

The dawn serpents continued their procession toward the lake, but Xiulan found herself trapped by her sleeping friend’s determined cuddles.

How long does she plan to sleep? Xiulan shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position without disturbing Feng Yu. The warmth of another person pressed against her slowly melted away the lingering tension from their battle. Her own exhaustion crept in, and her eyelids grew heavy.

If we’re going to waste the day anyway... Xiulan let her eyes drift closed, the comfort of human contact pushing back her usual worries. Sleep beckoned, promising respite from the chaos of the past hours.

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Xiulan woke with a start. The song of insects filled the air, mingling with a brisk breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and crushed vegetation. Moonlight reflected off the lake, casting an eerie glow over the valley. The devastation from their earlier battle lay stark against the serene backdrop.

“Feng Yu?” Xiulan’s voice broke the silence. No answer. She scanned the area, heart pounding. The other girl was nowhere in sight.

The collection device had been turned open side up. White sparkles shone as little white dawn serpent scales overflowed from inside it.

Wait. What?

Xiulan scrambled to her feet, her travel pack snagging on her ankle and nearly tripping her. She steadied herself and checked the pack—completely full of scales. She turned to the collection device. It, too, brimmed with scales. The entire area around them in the valley had been cleared out, leaving only a sparse scattering of scales in the distance.

Feng Yu must have collected them. Xiulan’s gaze darted around, searching for her friend. “Feng Yu?” she called again, anxiety creeping into her voice.

Had she left her here alone? Gone?

“Xiulan.” Feng Yu’s voice came from the lake shore, hidden by a pile of crushed wood.

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Instant relief washed over Xiulan. Not alone. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and headed toward her friend.

Feng Yu sat by the lake, her silhouette framed by the moonlit water. She looked up as Xiulan approached, a tired but satisfied smile on her face.

“You did all this?” Xiulan gestured to the overflowing collection device and her bulging travel pack.

Feng Yu nodded, brushing a strand of sandy brown hair from her face. “Couldn’t let you do all the work.”

Xiulan knelt beside her, the cool night air wrapping around them both. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Feng Yu wouldn’t look at her. Xiulan frowned.

“Is something wrong?” Xiulan studied Feng Yu’s profile against the water.

“We agreed to split everything fifty-fifty but...” Feng Yu’s shoulders hunched inward. “What if we found something that couldn’t be split?”

The vulnerability in Feng Yu’s tone made Xiulan pause. Tales of cultivator friendships shattering over rare treasures echoed through her mind—a common tragedy in a ruthless world.

“Did you find something good in the lake?” Xiulan kept her voice gentle.

Feng Yu’s muscles locked tight. A faint tremor ran through her hands as wisps of qi leaked from her meridians, vibrating with an unmistakable fear. The powerful, more experienced Feng Yu—who could easily overpower her and take everything—sat paralyzed by terror.

Had something like this happened to her in the past? Was it a painful scar?

Xiulan shifted behind the other girl, wrapping her arms around Feng Yu’s shoulders and resting her chin in the crook of her neck. Feng Yu twisted to stare at her with wide, bewildered amber eyes.

“If my big martial sister found something amazing that she wants or needs, I’d be thrilled for her.” Xiulan squeezed her friend’s shoulders.

“But...” Feng Yu’s confusion radiated through her rigid posture.

The reaction made sense. In cultivation, advancement demanded ruthlessness. Kill or be killed left little room for compassion. This belief permeated every corner of their world.

Yet, if pure ruthlessness ruled supreme, none would survive long enough to cultivate at all.

Xiulan gazed across the moonlit lake. The story of Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles surfaced—tales of sects and schools bound by ancient oaths and modern ambitions. A complex web of alliances and betrayals that shaped the fate of Arinthia.

“The guardian deity sacrificed everything to create the four seals.” Xiulan reached out with her left hand and traced patterns in the sand. “They protected the land from demonic cultivators who would drain everything dry. Gave everyone—mortal and immortal—a chance to make their own path.”

The sand shifted under her fingertips as she drew the ancient seal patterns from the game. Strange how clear those memories had become, when she had only seen them on loading splash screens.

“I’ve thought about where I stand in all this.” Xiulan tilted her gaze to meet Feng Yu’s. “The innocent deserve protection and the freedom to live their lives. I would like to help them when it is possible. But those who hurt my friends or family?” She clenched her fist, crushing the sand patterns. “Complete devastation awaits them. No mercy for those who threaten what I cherish.”

Moonlight reflected off the lake’s surface, casting rippling shadows across their faces. Xiulan leaned in and pressed closer.

“The people close to me deserve to be guarded, cherished, honored. Protected with everything I have.” She stared into the other girl’s eyes. “Does that sound too naïve?”

Feng Yu glanced at the ruined sand patterns. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t intend to die.” Xiulan traced another pattern in the sand. “And I won’t put myself last either. These dawn serpent scales will help Mei Chen, but the journey has also made me stronger. You taught me so much already—if you found something amazing too, isn’t that wonderful?”

Feng Yu twisted the fabric of her robes between her fingers. Moonlight caught the subtle tremor return to her hands at the mention of her discovery.

“Besides.” Xiulan brushed sand from her fingers. “Weren’t you the one who called me sister first?”

Feng Yu hunched forward, amber eyes fixed on the ground. “That was... I was...”

“Using me because an alchemist would be useful?” Xiulan kept her tone gentle. “Had ulterior motives from the start?”

A weak nod answered her question. Feng Yu’s shoulders drew even tighter, as if bracing for rejection or anger.

“Everyone uses each other in some way. That’s not wrong.” She squeezed Feng Yu’s shoulders. “But you’ll have to take responsibility.”

Feng Yu twisted around, amber eyes wide. “What?”

“You declared yourself my martial sister.” Xiulan brushed a stray hair from Feng Yu’s face. “My blood sisters hated me. They tried to kill me. But you—you treated me well. Protected me. Taught me.” She pressed closer. “So I claim you back.”

The night breeze whispered through the leaves as Xiulan tightened her embrace, leaning her cheek against Feng Yu’s. “And I will never let you go. You’re mine now.” Her words carried the weight of a vow. “Maybe it’s only been a little over a week, but I was very alone and in trouble, ripe for finding family. So if my big sister finds something good, I’ll be overjoyed.”

They sat in silence for a while. The tension melted from Feng Yu’s muscles as she relaxed into Xiulan’s embrace. Both watched silver ripples chase across the dark water.

“Most of my blood sisters hate me, too.” Feng Yu shifted against Xiulan’s shoulder. “Only two of my brothers show any kindness. My oldest sister—she stays fair, at least.”

Xiulan remained still, letting Feng Yu find her words.

“That’s part of why I left.” Feng Yu traced her own little idle patterns in the sand that surrounded Xiulan’s. “I couldn’t stand the constant fighting anymore. Seeing the world seemed like a perfect excuse to get away.”

“Seeing the world?” Xiulan blinked. “You must be from a cultivator family, then?”

A soft laugh escaped Feng Yu’s lips. “Something like that.”

The pieces clicked together in Xiulan’s mind. A noble family, perhaps? Duke Fang Liang ruled Stonehaven with his iron grip. Fang... Feng... The names sounded close enough. But no—this wasn’t the time to pry. The vulnerability in Feng Yu’s posture spoke volumes about her need for simple companionship, not interrogation.

But there was one little question that kept throttling her curiosity.

“Though I do wonder what it was you found.” Xiulan hummed thoughtfully. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Feng Yu shifted, conflict evident in her rigid posture. After several heartbeats, she exhaled softly. “I’ll tell you later. Not right now.”

“That’s great!” Xiulan brightened. “I can’t wait to find out what neat thing it will be. Maybe a spatial storage ring?”

A quiet chuckle escaped Feng Yu. “I wish. That would have been really useful.”