Fatty Wu reclined in his usual corner of the inn’s common room, the scent of sizzling pork and fragrant spices still lingering in his mind from the meal he had just prepared. He rubbed his belly with satisfaction, his thoughts drifting to new recipe ideas—a way to perfect that crispy duck glaze, perhaps a bolder marinade for the grilled venison.
The warmth of the lanterns cast flickering, lazy shadows across the wooden floor, matching the slow rhythm of his relaxed breathing. For once, all was quiet. A rare moment of peace.
Then, the door slammed open.
Tian Hao and Lin Mei stumbled inside, their clothes torn and stained with blood, the stench of violence clinging to them like a shroud.
Fatty Wu, his round face etched with worry as he saw the blood staining their robes, rushed over to tend to their injuries. “Heavens above, what happened?! Are you alright, Senior Sister Lin? Young Master, where are you hurt?” He quickly retrieved a small pouch of healing salve from his pack, his hands trembling slightly as he applied it to Lin Mei’s wounds, his touch gentle.
“Just a… minor skirmish,” Tian Hao said, forcing a casual tone despite the lingering tremor in his hands, the adrenaline fading. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Lin Mei leaned against the wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her legs trembling beneath her. The exhaustion clawed at her muscles, different from the strain of battle she'd known before. This wasn’t just the burn of overexertion—it was the bone-deep weariness of sect conflicts, where fights were rarely about strength alone.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain standing. The unrelenting nature of true sect battles was settling in. There was no break, no reprieve. Only the next fight, the next scheme, the next threat lurking in the shadows.
She took a slow, deliberate breath, steadying herself. This was her reality now. Whether she liked it or not, she had to endure. "Minor? Tian Hao, we nearly got gutted in that back alley," she snapped. “We’ll need more than that cheap salve if this becomes a regular occurrence, especially with these kinds of opponents."
Jiuwei hopped up onto a nearby table, her tail swishing back and forth with amusement. “A bit of excitement, nothing more,” she said. “At least we got some useful information, even if it came with a side of unnecessary violence. Though, I must admit, watching that brute fall was mildly satisfying.”
Tian Hao nodded, yet his face was serious. His gaze grew distant, as though his thoughts lingered on the faces of the men he had just killed. He could still feel the sickening crunch of bone beneath his fist, the way the brute’s eyes had widened in shock and disbelief. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor in his hands as the echoes of those he'd left behind in the alley whispered through his mind. He was no stranger to violence, not anymore.
His journey to the Jade Serpent Outpost, Jiuwei's pocket realm—they had both forced him to confront the harsh realities of the cultivation world. He’d seen spirit beasts torn apart, had even taken a life or two in self-defense. But this… this was different. This was the cold, calculated violence of cultivators settling a score, not some desperate struggle for survival against beasts whose only intent was to hunt or protect their territory.
He’d known, intellectually, that the world of cultivation was dangerous, that death lurked around every corner, that power, no matter how attained, came at a cost. But the reality of it—the visceral feel of taking a human life and the weight of the vows he’d made to those who fought beside him—made his stomach churn. Even the celebratory wine now felt bitter, stale somehow.
Jiuwei and Lin Mei's words echoed in his mind. He was no longer the carefree young master who’d once scoffed at the sect’s rules. He knew he was more now than merely a spoiled, comfort-seeking fool who relied on others. He could fight—he had fought—and he had protected those he cared for.
But at what cost?
The stark difference between his old life and his new reality struck him hard. Once, violence had been nothing more than flickering images on a screen, exaggerated tales meant to entertain. Now, it was raw, immediate, and personal.
Each moment of peace had become precious. The feasts, the wine—these were not mere indulgences. They weren’t some cultivated eccentricity he might one day discard.
Discipline, respect, martial skill, and oaths of blood—these were the laws of this world. They were not just necessary; they had to become part of his foundation.
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Since his arrival, he'd coasted through this life as though it were an extended vacation, a fascinating detour where the rules barely applied to him. He'd laughed at the sect’s rigid doctrines, indulged in fine wine and leisure, convinced that power was something he could borrow rather than earn. But that illusion was being shattered.
Now, he could glimpse the truth—this world had no patience for drifters. It demanded commitment, forced change upon those who dared to linger without purpose. Whether he wanted to or not, he was becoming something else, someone else. A cultivator who could no longer ignore the weight of the path he walked.
Yet, strangely, they were also a form of resilience. In this brutal existence, where survival hinged on power and cunning, his ability to grasp both comfort and combat was becoming a skill of its own. One he had only begun to understand.
Jiuwei, her fur slightly ruffled, her tail flicking agitatedly as if still energized by the night’s events, shook herself. The thrill of watching the fight still coursed through her tiny form. She padded softly across the table, then hopped onto her pile of soft spirit beast furs. Finally, she curled up, her eyes half-closed.
Jiuwei's sharp voice broke through Tian Hao's thoughts, snapping him back to the present. "You should be thanking me. A senior does deserve some gratitude, after all, no? After all," she continued, stifling a yawn, "if it weren't for my impeccable skills of stealth and infiltration, we’d be none the wiser. Or dead. But either way,” she smirked, “who’s the real champion now, Tian Hao?”
Tian Hao nodded absentmindedly.
Jiuwei continued to speak. "We have a clearer picture of what’s coming now, but that also means we need to be even more cautious." Her golden eyes locked onto Tian Hao's, their usual mischief subdued. "The Iron Talon Sect isn’t just a threat—they’re actively moving toward something bigger. Something dangerous. And they're willing to kill anyone who gets too close."
She flicked her tail, her ears twitching as if listening for unseen threats. "If they’re hiding their plans this carefully, it means whatever they’re after isn’t just some minor sect squabble. It’s something that could tip the balance of power, and we’re right in the middle of it."
Tian Hao exhaled slowly. The weight of Jiuwei’s words settled over them like an unspoken omen. "Then we need to get ahead of them. Find out what they’re after before they finish making their move."
Jiuwei nodded. "Agreed. But that’s not all." She glanced toward Lin Mei. "If we want to protect ourselves—and your family—we need more than just information. We need leverage. Something that forces them to reconsider who they’re up against. Otherwise, we’re just waiting for the axe to fall." It’s up to us to figure out what that might be, and perhaps more difficult now… how we’re going to stay ahead, how we can bring not just ourselves but Lin Mei’s family some small measure of freedom, even if for a short time.”
Lin Mei's breath came shallow at first, the weight of lingering fear gripping her chest like a vice. She could still feel the tremor in her hands, the raw edge of uncertainty gnawing at the edges of her mind. For a moment, it threatened to consume her.
Then, she forced herself to inhale—slowly, deliberately. Her fingers curled into fists, nails pressing into her palms, grounding her.
Her spine straightened. Her shoulders squared. The deep exhale she let out carried away the last remnants of hesitation. Fear had ruled her long enough. It would not define her—not anymore.
She turned to Tian Hao, but not with shame. The fierce glint in her eyes spoke of something else entirely—determination.
Regaining the sect's trust was not just about redemption. It was about survival—about proving to herself, to them all, that she was still worthy of standing among them. If she failed, she would not only lose her place but invite consequences far worse than mere exile. The sect did not forgive betrayal. She could not afford to be cast aside, nor to lose all hope of saving her family.
This was her chance. Her only chance. She could not waste it.
“She’s right,” Lin Mei said, her voice steady. “We need a plan. I'm done hiding. If we're going up against the Iron Talons, we need every advantage we can get.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Tian Hao, no matter what happens, we have to protect each other, protect Fatty Wu—and even protect Jiuwei, no matter how irritating our tiny 'Guardian of Realms' is. We’re in this together. All in.”
She met Tian Hao’s gaze, her expression firm. “If we fail,” she said, her voice unwavering, “we fail together.”
A small smile curved her lips, a hint of mischief softening the fierce determination in her eyes. “And if we succeed,” she continued, her words carrying a promise—not just for her family, but for what he’d shown her was also her path forward—“we make sure those slimy snakes regret ever crossing us.”
Tian Hao met her gaze, his smile now mirroring the warmth and confidence she’d once helped him find, and nodded. Despite the smile, a thought lingered in his mind—how much longer could they keep this up before everything fell apart? But he pushed the doubt aside, focusing instead on the promise they had made to each other.
“Agreed, Mei Mei. Together.” He couldn't shake the feeling that she still held much in tension, but he couldn’t fault her for it—not anymore.
“So," Fatty Wu chimed in, forcing a cheerful grin despite the obvious worry creasing his round face. He adjusted his chef's hat, a small motion that seemed to steady him, as if grounding himself in the familiar. Humor had always been his shield, a way to push back against the weight of the harsher sides of reality. "What’s the plan? A surprise banquet for those Iron Talon goons? I’ve got just the right spice blend to make them regret ever setting foot against Skyward Lotus."
“No banquets,” Tian Hao said, his voice quiet. "Listening in—it's our best option. If we can gather more information on their plans, then perhaps there’s a chance to use it against them, to find some advantage in the chaos their whispers would unleash, to protect both your family and our own sect.”