Chapter 7#
A Cry for Help#
A fierce wind howled. Tree branches shuddered and snapped, clattering to the ground. A shadow fell across the entire length of the long street, and moisture seeped from the moss between the bricks.
The air was heavy and damp, the wind deafening. All around, vendors cried out as they scrambled to pack up their stalls and flee. In the blink of an eye, the street was emptied, leaving nothing but a scattering of fallen leaves and broken branches.
Yin Yuheng wiped the blood from his fingers with mild indifference. “Just a scratch. Nothing serious.”
Suddenly he grabbed Lu Yan’s wrist. “Come with me!”
In an instant, countless silver needles came pouring from every direction — a curtain of glittering, cold light.
“Whoever’s after you is at least at the Yuan Ying stage,” Yin Yuheng said, pulling Lu Yan around a fork in the road. The spot where the two of them had just been standing was now riddled with needle holes. “But they weren’t using full force. They must have reservations — they don’t dare act too openly. After all, this is Chaoge—”
The capital of the Li Dynasty. A city of national importance. The protective formation around the city never ceased its operation, and anyone who wanted to cause trouble here would have to think carefully about whether they had the power to back it up.
Lu Yan was dragged over a wall. The relentless barrage of silver needles finally stopped.
The two of them leaned against the wall, disheveled from the chase. Yin Yuheng was frail by constitution, and a thin sheen of cold sweat had broken out on his forehead — yet he showed no fear. With a smile still at the corners of his mouth, he turned his head to give Lu Yan a “shush” gesture.
But he froze.
The fierce wind stirred the young man’s hair. His ink-dark robes billowed and flapped.
Yin Yuheng had never seen eyes so focused. Those sharp, star-bright eyes reflected his own image back at him.
“Why—” The chase had been terrifyingly close, and the young man’s voice still carried a faint breathlessness. “Why did you help me? You don’t even know my name.”
Yin Yuheng blinked, his smile undiminished. “Then what is your name?”
The young man pressed his lips together slightly. He hesitated for a moment, then said in a low voice, “…Lu Yan.”
“Good, Lu Yan,” Yin Yuheng said, still smiling. “Now I know, don’t I?”
“Yan” was not a pleasant character. Yet spoken from Yin Yuheng’s lips, it took on a strangely tender quality. He let the final sound linger on his tongue, his smile bright and open, yet his gaze deep and unreadable.
Lu Yan tightened his fingers. The wind around them softened, filtering through the gaps in the leaves with a faint, rustling whisper.
“I…I came to Chaoge specifically to find you,” Lu Yan said earnestly. “To thank you for the Ling Sui Dan. I… got myself into trouble with some people. I was being hunted. If not for you, I would have died.”
No one could know what was going through his mind.
Hunted relentlessly — from the Demon Realm all the way to Chaoge. He had felt himself approaching the very limits of his endurance.
What was the point of holding on?
Endless running. Endless torment.
His pursuers had had many chances to kill him outright, yet they kept letting him survive by the narrowest of margins. Lu Yan understood it perfectly: this was nothing more than a cat toying with a mouse. Give him hope, then watch him despair.
He was like a fighting beast, trapped in a cage and barely clinging to life, teetering on the edge of collapse.
And yet — he had never imagined it. That night, flames blazing skyward, scattering the darkness. Someone lifting him into their arms, soothing him gently, tending to his wounds.
A spark of starlight, kindled suddenly in an eternal night.
He had told himself: he couldn’t give up yet. He still hadn’t said thank you. He still hadn’t repaid that debt of kindness.
And so he had come to Chaoge.
He hadn’t expected that when he found the person he was looking for, and the debt he’d meant to repay would only deepen.
Lu Yan lowered his gaze. “A debt of life — I don’t know how to repay it. I…”
Before he could finish, a thunderous boom rang out, and the brick wall at their backs crumbled and collapsed.
The two of them looked at each other.
Yin Yuheng said decisively, “Right — go to the Guoshi Manor!”
Lu Yan noticed that as Yin Yuheng spoke the words “Guoshi Manor,” his eyes lit up ever so slightly.
He clearly trusted the Guoshi Manor. Or rather — trusted someone inside it.
Trusted that they could save him. Trusted it was a place he could retreat to.
…
The Guoshi Manor was, indeed, not far away.
The sky hung dark and heavy. The manor’s towering outer walls were imposing and solemn.
Yin Yuheng drew his sword and deflected the attack coming from behind. A sharp clang rang out as a silver needle was knocked away by the blade. The impact left his wrist numb, and the wound on his fingers began to bleed anew.
Lu Yan already carried old injuries, and his condition was more serious. Blood and qi churned in his chest. But the hand holding his sword remained steady, his gaze sharp as light dancing on the tip of a blade.
“You go first,” Lu Yan said quietly. “They’re coming for me…”
Before he could finish, he saw the earnest look in Yin Yuheng’s eyes, and found himself unable to continue.
“I want to save you. You don’t need to feel like you owe me anything,” Yin Yuheng said, his eyes curving into a smile. “Don’t worry.”
The young man stood in white, sword in hand, the hem of his robe already speckled with blood — like red plum blossoms blooming against snow, vivid and striking. But when he smiled, it was as if spring waters were beginning to flow, as if ice was breaking on a frozen river. All the darkness, despair, and cold loneliness receded like a tide, and warmth flooded everything in its wake.
Lu Yan’s fingertips trembled. He gripped his sword hilt tighter.
Yin Yuheng turned his head toward the Guoshi Manor and called out, “Shifu!”
Shifu? Lu Yan thought. He’s a disciple of the Guoshi Manor? It was said that Li Guanghan, the National Preceptor of the Li Dynasty, hailed from Penglai — a sword immortal at the Huashen stage, renowned throughout the world. If he were to intervene…
But silence greeted them. No one responded.
Slowly, a crease formed between Yin Yuheng’s brows. A flicker of worry crossed his eyes. He called out once more.
A Huashen-stage cultivator’s spiritual sense was powerful beyond measure. If Li Guanghan were inside the manor, he would have been aware of the commotion nearby. It was impossible that he hadn’t heard.
Yet the high walls of the Guoshi Manor remained as silent as before.
A weight settled in Yin Yuheng’s chest. He turned back to Lu Yan with a rueful smile. “Maybe Shifu isn’t in the manor. I’m sorry — I thought…”
Dark clouds like ink. A bone-cutting wind. The peach blossoms that had just opened in early spring were torn from the branches and scattered across Yin Yuheng’s body. The young man’s gaze dimmed, his face pale, and still he was saying sorry.
Why apologize? Lu Yan thought. Because you couldn’t save me?
You never had any obligation to save me.
How can someone so foolish exist in this world?
Despite himself, Lu Yan let out a soft, quiet laugh. “Since you’re a disciple of the Guoshi Manor, as long as you get inside, no one will dare touch you. Go quickly.”
“I can’t — what would happen to you?” Before Lu Yan could speak, Yin Yuheng gave him a sudden shove.
“Bai Heng!” Lu Yan’s eyes flew wide.
A gleam of cold light scraped past the young man’s shoulder. With a sharp ding, it embedded itself three inches deep into the high wall of the Guoshi Manor behind them. A silver needle, its tip buried in the stone — testament to the terrifying force behind it.
Yin Yuheng had gone deathly pale. Blood was already soaking through his shoulder, spreading across the silver-threaded cloud-patterned cloak. The young man’s white robes were now half peach blossoms, half blood — raw and vivid, a sight that cut straight to the heart.
With a clatter, his sword slipped from his hand. Yin Yuheng stumbled. Yet his gaze was still fixed on Lu Yan, and he managed a faint smile. “Are you all right?”
You still care whether I’m all right? You got hurt saving me, and you’re asking about me?
Lu Yan’s heart was hammering. Heat surged through his entire body, burning through his mind. He reached out and steadied Yin Yuheng, his gaze filled with both anguish and fury.
He spun sharply, staring at the apparently empty space across from them.
“I know you’re there.” Lu Yan’s voice was hoarse. His eyes were faintly reddened. Slowly, he raised the sword in his hand.
He brought the blade down in one sweeping strike.
Light blazed across the long street. Golden flames poured from the tip of Lu Yan’s sword and surged forward, growing fiercer with every passing moment — burning with the ferocity of something that could set the sky itself on fire.
The silver needles raining down from above were caught in those golden flames and melted clean through, clattering to the ground.
The firelight shone in Yin Yuheng’s eyes. He stared in wide-eyed astonishment.
Lu Yan felt the violent energy roiling inside him threatening to break loose. He was about to strike again when a cool, indifferent voice rang out:
“That’s enough.”
In an instant, frost spread through the air and smothered the blazing golden flames.
Lu Yan turned slowly. Behind them, the great doors of the Guoshi Manor stood wide open. A white-robed sword cultivator stood within, hands clasped behind his back. His expression was lofty and impassive — like a god descended from the ninth heaven.
Li Guanghan’s gaze swept over Lu Yan and Yin Yuheng before settling on the empty space ahead. He gave a soft, dismissive sound.
Almost instantly, Lu Yan felt the killing intent that had been locked onto him — vanish.
Even those who had hunted him dared not linger in the face of Li Guanghan.
Lu Yan steadied his breathing and tightened his grip around Yin Yuheng. He said each word deliberately: “National Preceptor Li.”
Li Guanghan’s gaze fell on the young man cradled in Lu Yan’s arms, and his brow furrowed slightly.
“Injured?”
Yin Yuheng was ashen with pain. Hearing Li Guanghan’s voice, he slowly raised his head. “Shifu… were you… in the manor just now?”
If you were inside all along, then why…
Yin Yuheng’s gaze moved past Li Guanghan, landing on the young man standing behind him.
Zhu Anning was standing at Li Guanghan’s back, only a pair of eyes visible.
Yin Yuheng suddenly understood.
“Shifu — you were with Shidi just now, weren’t you?”
That’s why you didn’t come.
Yin Yuheng tugged at the corner of his mouth in a faint, self-mocking smile. Then, quietly, he said, “I’m fine. Shifu needn’t worry…”
“He is not fine.” A voice cut him off. Lu Yan spoke through gritted teeth. “He’s badly hurt.”
To save me.