The sight we saw silenced the young disciples, making the cave seem even more eerie and desolate.
I was drenched in mud, blood, and my own sweat, despite the depth of winter. Though eyes were closed, the feel and foul smell of blood and dirt enveloped me, leaving me disgusted and numb. I scorched the cloth I'd torn from my sleeve to staunch the bleeding; I bandaged the wound and repeated the process for all the injured.
Damn it.
My vision blurred as I struggled to sit up. I felt weak, but the sight of a familiar figure renewed my strength. It was him. A smile broke across my face as a familiar silhouette approached. Lin Jian, my comrade—a false one, yet still here.
Unexpected joy filled my heart. I stood in disbelief. He'd been with me through thick and thin, except for tonight's massacre. I'd thought he'd fled, or worse, that he was dead. I recognized his tall, lean frame instantly. He'd always walked and stood like that, and it was no different now.
His unchanged posture filled me with poignant relief. He extended his arms to support me as I fell unconscious. Everything had changed tonight; it wouldn't be the same, but at least we'd still have each other, right?
As was.
I wished I could have slept that night, the night it all began. It was the eleventh month of the previous year. Crickets chirped as I opened my eyes. Before I was fully awake, their sound seemed louder. I couldn't sleep; lying down was useless. I got up and put on my robe.
I sat by the window, bathed in the gentle moonlight that cast a scenic glow across my room. My gaze fell upon the spiritual sword I'd recently forged—a testament to my efforts, my reddened hand a painful reminder of the process. After its creation, I cleansed my hands in purifying water, washing away the grime of making the weapon.
As the 25th-ranked disciple; a position I'd earned through dedication and recent promotion.I reminisced about my humble beginnings in the sect, nurtured under the guidance of Master Xinyue. I had finally gained recognition as a high-ranking disciple within the Primeval Jade Sect.
Within our sect, high-ranking disciples are categorized into three distinct factions: the Jade Weavers, masters of illusion and spells using the power of the Jade Stone; the Shadow Walkers, exceptional fighters trained to be swift as lightning; and the Prime Artisans, craftsmen known for their expertise in crafting spiritual weaponry.
I belong to the third faction; I am a Prime Artisan of the Jade Sect. A lingering sense of incompleteness nagged at me as I looked at my newly forged weapon, prompting me to seek comfort in a cup of hot cocoa in the chill of the night. However, a sudden alertness gripped me as I sensed suspicious movement below, a swift, shadowy figure that eluded my grasp, leaving me to ponder the disturbance throughout the night.
The following morning, amid the usual chatter of my old companions, a sharp voice cut through the noise. "You! You! And you! And you!" A boy, barely older than me, pointed at a few disciples. "To the cafeteria, all of you! You're on cleaning duty today."
When his gaze landed on me, there was an unmistakable smirk. "Oh, and you too, Miss High and Mighty. Even the esteemed have chores, it seems."
I felt the sting of his words, but I kept my face neutral. Inside, however, something shifted. I could already see how this could play out. My voice was soft when I answered, almost reluctant. "Yes, I will."
As he walked off, I could hear the whispers start, followed by laughter. Mei caught my eye, her expression full of disbelief. "Yinuo, why did you agree? You don't have to clean anymore. You're a senior disciple now."
"Yeah, don't tell me you actually like cleaning," Lan added with a raised eyebrow.
I could feel their pity, and I let it sink in. "It's alright. Besides that's only ranks...I will always be Yinou. "
"You're always so kind, always trying to help others. But you really need to stop bearing everything alone," Mei said gently, her eyes full of concern.
Lan nodded. "Yeah, you don't have to do everything. It's okay to let someone else step in for a change."
I let their words hang in the air, the sympathy in their voices exactly what I needed. They saw me as someone who always did too much, too kind for her own good. And that was exactly how I wanted them to see me.
"It's alright, really. I also want to pass by my best friend's courtyard. The cafeteria is close there. " I said, my voice feigning vulnerability. "It's hitting two birds in one stone!"
When the boy passed by, I waited for the perfect moment. As his back turned, I muttered an incantation, low and barely audible. The air shifted, and his steps faltered. He stumbled and fell to the ground with a startled shout.
I rushed to him, feigning concern. "What happened? Are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft, but then, as if by accident, I twisted my ankle. The pain was real enough, but my reaction was far more dramatic than necessary.
"Ouch!" I cried, clutching my foot, my face contorting as if the pain were unbearable. "You... you hurt me! You really hurt me!" I sobbed, loud enough for everyone around to hear.
The disciples gathered around quickly, and I could see the confusion in the boy's eyes as he tried to get up. Mei was the first to speak, her voice full of concern for me.
"Yinuo, are you alright?" she asked, kneeling beside me. "That boy, he... he did this on purpose, didn't he?"
Lan's voice came next, filled with disbelief. "I knew something wasn't right. He's probably jealous because Master Xinyue always favors you. "
I let the words flow over me, allowing them to solidify my role as the innocent, pitiful girl who had been wronged. I wiped away a tear, though I felt no real sorrow. The boy was dragged away, murmurs of guilt and suspicion following him as they took him to Master Xinyue.
As they left, I let a few more tears fall, my face twisted in a perfect picture of distress. But in the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Master Xinyue and Bai Lin watching from the main tower. My heart skipped a beat, but the smile I gave them was small and knowing. They already knew what kind of person I was, but they didn't care. Master Xinyue still adored me.
I bit my lip, still pretending to cry as the others tried to console me. "No one will ever know this side of me," I whispered quietly to myself, my voice barely a breath. "Except someone like me... Lin Jian."
Lin Jian and I... we had a complicated relationship.
We were friends—or at least, we pretended to be.
Truth is, we were just good at hiding things. Him especially.
I'd always thought I was the one in control. Years of training made me careful, quiet, good at slipping beneath notice. I knew how to keep my cards close. But that day, I realized Lin Jian was playing a game of his own.
We were paired for training—two rising junior disciples with too much potential and even more pride. Everyone thought we made a good match. Maybe we did. But I saw through him early on.
His eyes were always watching, his words a little too smooth. There was ambition in him, tucked neatly behind every polite smile. He acted like he didn't care about power—but that was the first lie.
We stood across from each other in the practice yard, blades drawn, breath coming in slow bursts. Our sparring sessions always drew attention. Not because we were the strongest—but because we both fought like we had something to prove.
His stance was sharp, almost flawless, but there was a tension to it—like he was waiting for the right moment to strike beyond the match. When our swords clashed, I felt it. He wasn't just reacting. He was measuring me.
"You're holding back," he said, low and steady. His tone was casual, but the way he watched me... it was calculating.
"Am I?" I answered, calm on the surface—but I shifted my grip. He was testing me. Looking for something. He wanted to know how far I'd go.
He smiled. It wasn't warm. "You think you're the only one who knows how to hide? You're not."
That threw me off—just for a second.
He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to make me realize I'd underestimated him. He wasn't just clever. He was like me. Ambitious. Careful. A little reckless. And smarter than he let on.
I tilted my head, studying him. "So what? You're trying to get inside my head now?"
His blade grazed mine, barely touching, but it sent a chill through me. "No," he said. "I'm trying to see how far you're willing to go."
That silence between us was thick with unsaid things. A mutual understanding.
We both wanted more. More power. More recognition. More control. But neither of us had it yet—we were still juniors, still clawing for scraps. Still faking confidence to mask how badly we wanted to win.
I stepped back, lowering my blade. He mirrored me.
"You talk like you've already won," I said, eyes narrowing. "But you haven't even seen what I can do."
He chuckled—low and smug, but not fully sure of himself. "Neither have you."
There it was again—that mirror. We were both ambitious kids in a world that demanded subtlety and silence. But we weren't built for silence. We wanted to climb. And we were willing to play dirty if we had to.
They say we were like parallel lines—too alike to be close, too competitive to ever truly trust each other.
But somehow, we became friends anyway.
Not out of kindness.
Out of curiosity.
Out of challenge.
Out of the thrill of knowing we'd either rise together—or eventually tear each other apart.
The moment the boy was taken away, I straightened up and, with the perfect amount of limp, made my way to the cafeteria. I kept my gaze low, my movements deliberately slow. No one could know the truth, not yet. The illusion had to stay intact. Even with the "injury" I had caused myself, I still cleaned—because that was the role I had to play.
The rhythmic clatter of my broom against the wooden floor became the only sound in the quiet cafeteria, but it was soon interrupted.
"Happy birthday to me!" Lin Jian's voice sliced through the silence as he appeared in the doorway, an almost predatory grin curling on his lips. In one hand, he held a small paper bag. "A little something to celebrate. And, of course, I couldn't celebrate without inviting you to a small gathering later. Come, join me?"
I paused mid-sweep, allowing the broom to falter and hover in mid-air as I silently guided the enchanted cloths over the tables and shelves with the flick of my hand. They moved with exact precision, almost as if they knew their place. But for a moment, I let everything hang still, and I allowed the smallest of smiles to cross my face. Lin Jian had a knack for showing up at just the right moment.
"Lotus seeds?" I raised an eyebrow, my voice betraying a hint of amusement mixed with something far less pleasant. It wasn't a gift I expected—or even wanted. "You know how much I love those," I added, keeping the sarcasm under wraps just enough to seem like a polite remark.
Lin Jian smirked, his eyes never leaving mine. "You always say that with such enthusiasm," he said, voice dripping with the recognition of our shared history. "I thought I'd get them for you, just like last time. You don't mind, do you?"
He knew. Oh, he knew. The faintest tightening of my jaw each time I forced those delicate, grainy seeds down my throat. The sickly sweetness that clung to them, the subtle taste of a gift I had no interest in. But it was Lin Jian. He understood the charade, and it was precisely that charade that had drawn us together over the years.
I smiled, but it was a controlled expression, a mask of politeness. "Thank you," I said, taking the bag from him without a second thought.
He knew how to get to me. The simple gesture, the feigned warmth in his voice, it all resonated with a comforting familiarity. Lin Jian then stepped a little closer, his gaze assessing. "Still pretending to be hurt?" he asked, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips.
I winced slightly, keeping the discomfort in my expression just right. "It still hurts," I murmured. "I think I might need some help."
There was a pause. Then, without a word, he extended his energy toward me. At first, I expected something cold or calculated—his usual way of not getting too involved. But instead, a wave of warmth spread over my ankle. It was unexpectedly soothing. Too soothing, almost. He knew I was faking, yet here he was, indulging me in this strange new way.
"That's not like you," I said, my voice a little sharper than I intended. "Wasting your power on me when you know I'm fine."
He looked at me, expression neutral, as if I hadn't just called him out. "Maybe I felt like it," he said. "You seemed like you needed it."
I blinked, a little thrown off. This wasn't like him. It felt almost like a new teasing technique, a way to get under my skin. He was playing the part of the considerate one, even though he knew it was all a show.
But then I thought back to the last time he'd healed me in front of everyone—when I'd tried to use my "injury" to drive out the girl who I'd seen as a threat. That time, he hadn't indulged me. Instead, he used a special water-based medicine on me to treat the injury. It had been painful—too painful—and I had to endure it in front of everyone.
I remembered the sting as the medicine burned through my skin, the real consequences of what I had tried to do. Lin Jian had been clear: I was crossing a line, and he was stopping me before I went too far. He wasn't going to let me hurt that girl with the same medicine I had planned to use on her. He'd given me the scar on my hand instead, marking me as a reminder that some manipulations would never be tolerated.
Now, here he was, playing this new game with me, indulging my act instead of calling me out. I couldn't help but feel frustrated. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
"Are you done?" I asked, my tone colder now, as the warmth in my ankle faded. "I appreciate the help, but you don't have to pretend like I'm actually injured."
He didn't react right away. His expression softened, but only slightly. "I didn't think you were injured," he said. "But sometimes, it's not about whether someone's hurt. It's about whether they need help."
I looked at him, studying his face. There was something off in his demeanor, but I couldn't quite place it. It wasn't his usual teasing or indifferent attitude. He was indulging me, and it irritated me more than it should have.
"Anyway," I said, forcing a smile, "thank you for the 'help.' But I'll manage. As usual."
I turned back to the table, picking up the broom again and resuming my sweeping. Lin Jian didn't say anything more. He just watched me for a moment before speaking.
"I'll see you later, then," he said casually, almost as if nothing had changed between us.
The wait for permission to leave the sect had been excruciating, each day dragging endlessly into the next until weeks blurred together. When we were finally allowed out, stepping into the marketplace felt like being thrust into another world — a riot of sound, color, and life after so long behind walls. The crowds pressed in from all sides, a dizzying swirl of voices haggling and laughing, while the air was thick with the rich, mouth-watering scent of spices and freshly baked bread. I could barely catch my breath, torn between awe and the sheer strangeness of freedom.
"Do you remember that day in the peach orchard, six years ago?" I asked Lin Jian, forcing a light laugh as I tucked a stray hair behind my ear.
He mirrored my smile a little too perfectly. "Of course," he said smoothly. "How could I possibly forget something like that?" His chuckle was polite, empty of real amusement. He was probably thinking the same thing I was — how stupid the whole thing had been.
"You climbed so high," he said, tilting his head as if in admiration, "then fell asleep like a child. So adorable." The word tasted like mockery, even though he delivered it with a grin.
"And then I fell," I said, matching his fake smile with one of my own. "Almost flattened you, if I remember right."
He laughed a little too loudly. "Well, we all survived somehow," he said, waving his hand as if brushing off the memory like dust.
We walked a few steps in a stiff, practiced silence, the kind that had long since replaced real comfort. "It was a nice day, though," Lin Jian added with a sigh, his gaze pointedly admiring the market stalls instead of me. "Very... memorable."
"Mm," I hummed noncommittally. "Almost like stepping into a fairytale, wasn't it?"
"Absolutely," he agreed at once, the corner of his mouth twitching as if holding back a smirk. "A little... too perfect."
Just then, he grabbed my wrist without warning. I jerked back instinctively, scowling. "Watch it," I snapped under my breath. "This tunic cost more than your dignity."
He smirked, not letting go immediately. "Relax," he murmured, eyes flicking past me. "Look over there."
I followed his gaze, resisting the urge to wipe my sleeve where he'd touched it.
The vibrant, boisterous mood of the marketplace abruptly shifted. A solemn procession of guards in green and white moved slowly through the crowd. They carried shrouded figures on litters, their faces completely concealed beneath white cloth. The silence that followed their passage was heavy, a stark contrast to the market's previous energy.
Lin Jian's usual playful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a serious curiosity. He stepped forward, drawing closer to the guards. "Excuse me," he began, his voice respectful but firm. "May I ask what happened to those people?"
A somber expression crossed the guards' faces. "These individuals, travelers," one guard replied in a hushed tone, "met their demise at Jade Falls."
Lin Jian's eyes widened in alarm. "Jade Falls? But that's mere leagues away from here."
"Aye, kid," the guard continued, "they were found drowned in the treacherous waters, their bodies carried downstream by the relentless current."
"Sir, may I take a look?" I asked, joining their conversation. He hesitated. "Sorry, young lady and young man, just let us handle it." He thought we were just curious onlookers wasting time, so I convinced him I could help. He eventually agreed.
As I lifted the drenched cloth, I immediately noticed a sword wound. "There's a wound," I said.
"Yes, the exact cause of their death is still unknown; most likely they were murdered and thrown into the water. Either way, they died at Jade Falls," he explained.
The wound was from a sword I'd forged; it was abundant in yang energy, and the way it sliced through the skin confirmed my assumption.
It was someone from my sect. I made three weapons using yang stone: a crossbow, a spear, and a sword. There was a suspect now.