Tian Hao and Lin Mei trudged through the streets, their bodies weighed down by a bone-deep weariness. The adrenaline from earlier had long since faded, leaving behind only the dull ache of exhaustion. Each step landed heavily, the cobblestones beneath their feet seeming colder, harsher than before.

The once-vibrant energy of Skyveil City pressed in around them, no longer comforting but suffocating. Every shadow seemed deeper, their jagged edges reaching like claws poised to grab. Lin Mei’s head whipped toward a narrow alley where the flicker of a lamp cast twisted shadows. Her glaive shifted slightly, the metal catching the dim light, a silent promise of readiness despite her weary steps. Even the murmur of distant voices felt sharper, louder, each sound an echo of the confrontation still clinging to their minds like smoke.

The echo of their footfalls wasn’t just sound; it was a rhythm of unease, their silent breaths mingling with the oppressive atmosphere, the weight of unseen eyes prickling along their spines.

Jiuwei, nestled in the crook of Tian Hao’s arm, slept soundly, her tiny chest rising and falling with each soft breath. Her earlier display of power had clearly taken a toll, leaving her small form vulnerable and utterly dependent on him—a stark contrast to the terrifying celestial presence she’d projected moments before.

Tian Hao, his arm supporting Jiuwei, couldn’t help but glance down at her.

Lin Mei walked beside him, her silence a heavy weight between them. The events of the day—the competition, the confrontation, and now the revelation of Jiuwei’s power—had shaken her.

Tian Hao could sense the tension radiating from her, the way her shoulders remained slightly hunched, her gaze fixed on the path ahead as if she were bracing for another blow. He wanted to say something, to break the silence, to offer some comfort, but the words caught in his throat, as though some invisible barrier had descended between them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the Humble Petal Inn. Its worn facade, once a source of mild annoyance, now felt like a sanctuary, a haven from the city’s hidden dangers. They stepped inside, the familiar scent of stale ale and old wood a strange comfort after the chaos they had just escaped.

Fatty Wu was waiting for them in the common room. He sat hunched over a small table, a collection of parchments, brushes, ink stones, and small bottles spread out before him. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he meticulously transcribed recipes and notes, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a focused intensity.

He looked up as they entered, his eyes widening in concern as he took in their disheveled appearance—the lingering traces of the fight evident in their torn clothes, the scratches and bruises that marked their skin, and the exhaustion etched on their faces.

“Young Master! Senior Sister!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with alarm. He quickly rose from his seat, his chair scraping against the floor, the sound jarring in the otherwise quiet room. “What happened? You look like you’ve been dragged through a spirit beast’s lair!”

Tian Hao managed a weak smile. “Just a little… disagreement, Fatty Wu. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” He carefully placed the sleeping Jiuwei on a nearby cushion, the small fox curling into a tighter ball, her breathing soft and even.

Lin Mei, her voice heavy with exhaustion, simply nodded, her gaze distant. She sank into a nearby chair, her body slumping as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, the lingering fear from the confrontation and the burden of her secret weighing heavily upon her.

Fatty Wu rushed to their sides, his concern evident in every line of his face. In his haste, his arm bumped the table, sending an inkstone tumbling to the floor with a sharp clatter, the black ink spreading like an accusatory stain across the wood. He winced but didn’t stop, his hands fumbling to offer them water, his clumsiness a stark contrast to his earnest worry. He fussed over them, checking their injuries with surprising gentleness for someone of his size.

“Here, drink this,” he said, handing Tian Hao a cup of water. “And let me see that arm, Young Master. You need to clean those wounds before they get infected.” He turned to Lin Mei, his expression softening. “You too, Senior Sister. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Tian Hao winced as Fatty Wu dabbed at his cuts with a damp cloth. “It was… a bit more than a disagreement,” he admitted, his gaze flickering towards Lin Mei, who remained silent, her eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of the inn.

He decided to recount the events of the evening. He spoke in hushed tones, his voice low, careful not to disturb the sleeping fox.

Fatty Wu listened intently, his eyes widening with each new detail, his earlier jovial demeanor replaced by a growing sense of unease. He glanced at Lin Mei, whose silence spoke volumes, her distress evident in the way she sat, hunched in on herself as though trying to disappear.

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“The Iron Talon Sect,” he murmured, his voice filled with a newfound gravity, “this is serious, Young Master. They are not to be trifled with.” He paused, his gaze shifting between Tian Hao and Lin Mei. “And this… artifact Lin Mei was forced to steal… it must be more important than we realize.”

As Fatty Wu processed the information he looked from Tian Hao to Lin Mei, his gaze lingering on Lin Mei’s downcast eyes, and a knot of worry tightened in his stomach. He knew that something was wrong, that the events of the day had shaken her more than she was letting on.

“Lin Mei,” he began, his voice gentle, “is there something more I need to know?”

Lin Mei hesitated, her gaze flickering between Tian Hao and Fatty Wu. The weight of her secret pressed down on her, a heavy burden she’d carried alone for too long. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

Tian Hao, sensing her distress, reached out and placed a hand over hers, his touch gentle but firm. “Mei Mei,” he said softly, “you can trust us. We’re your friends. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

His words, filled with a sincerity that surprised even him, seemed to break through her defenses. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a vulnerability he’d rarely seen before.

Lin Mei took a deep, shuddering breath, her gaze fixed on their joined hands. She looked at Fatty Wu, his round face etched with concern, his eyes filled with a kindness that she didn't feel she deserved. Then at Tian Hao, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a gentle seriousness she hadn’t expected, his strength and loyalty an anchor in her storm of doubt.

The words, long suppressed, now tumbled out in a torrent, each one a confession, a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to unburden herself, even if only a little, before the weight crushed her entirely.

“It’s… it’s complicated,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “The Iron Talon Sect… they’re not just some rival sect. They… they have a hold on me. A claim.” She paused, her gaze dropping to her lap, her fingers twisting together nervously.

“Years ago, when I was just a child, they came to my village. The air that morning had been heavy with the scent of wet earth and woodsmoke, the quiet hum of life in the village broken only by the distant calls of merchants setting up their stalls. Then, they arrived. They swept through like a shadow, their presence swallowing the warmth of the sun. They… they took me. Said I had potential. That I could become a powerful cultivator.” Her voice wavered, the memory of that day still raw, still painful.

“My father… he tried to stop them. I can still hear his voice, steady and strong, telling them to leave. He stood up to them, said they couldn’t just take his daughter, that they had no right.” She closed her eyes, her breath catching in her throat, the image of her father’s defiance, his silhouette framed against the dark robes of their oppressors, forever etched in her mind.

“They… they killed him. Right there, in front of me.” Her voice broke, a choked sob escaping her lips. She covered her mouth with her hand, as if to stifle the sound, to contain the grief that threatened to consume her.

Tian Hao’s hand tightened around hers, his touch a silent offering of comfort, a promise of unwavering support.

“They spared my mother, my little brother. Said they’d be… taken care of… as long as I cooperated,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “They trained me, honed my skills, turned me into a weapon for their own purposes. I was to become their agent, to infiltrate the Skyward Lotus Sect, to gather information, and… to wait for their command.”

Each word was a shard of glass, piercing the illusion of camaraderie she had so desperately tried to maintain. She was a spy, an infiltrator, a weapon forged by their enemies—and these two, who had become her friends, were now caught in a web of deceit she had woven.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing herself to continue. “The jade coin… it wasn’t just some trinket. It was an artifact, something they wanted. Something they needed. They contacted me, told me where to find it, what to do. Said my family’s safety depended on it.” She looked up at Tian Hao, her eyes pleading for understanding. “I didn’t have a choice, Tian Hao. I had to do it. For them.”

Tian Hao’s grip on her hand tightened, his gaze steady as something clicked into place. His thoughts churned, each realization stinging more sharply than the last. How had he missed it? Her eagerness to leave, how she wandered off that evening—it all made sense now. His mind drifted back to that moment near the well, the way she’d lingered, her expression distant, as though grappling with some hidden weight. He’d dismissed it as exhaustion or a private memory she wasn’t ready to share. Regret coiled in his chest, a bitter reminder of his carelessness.

His voice softened, though tinged with that regret. “So that’s why you didn’t hesitate to join me at the Jade Serpent Outpost. It wasn’t just duty—it was an order, wasn’t it? From them.”

Lin Mei nodded.

He let out a slow breath, his expression thoughtful. “It’s alright, Mei Mei. You don’t have to explain any more than you want to.”

Fatty Wu nodded. “We’re with you, Lin Mei. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.” His voice, usually filled with laughter, now carried a quiet strength.

“Thank you, Tian Hao,” Lin Mei whispered. "Fatty Wu, Jiuwei... " She struggled to find the right words, “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The relief of confessing her secret, of no longer carrying the burden alone, had left her emotionally raw, the tears welling up once more as though her eyes themselves reflected the storm that had settled over them.

Tian Hao’s smirk returned, his expression softening as he watched her.

“Hey,” he said, forcing a lightness into his tone despite conflicted feelings now coiling in his chest, “as long as you keep watching my back, I’ll keep watching yours. Besides, I’m never one to back down from a challenge. Especially not when it involves… a little mischief.” He gave her a reassuring wink, adding with a rude gesture towards the unseen Iron Talons beyond the inn’s walls. “Let them come. We’ll be ready.”

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of Lin Mei’s confession, and with the looming threat of the Iron Talon Sect.

"So," Tian Hao finally said, his voice breaking the silence. "What do we do now?"