As I stared at Ruan Yanjun's back while he walked away, something caught my eye. His long, dark hair swayed with each steady step, tied back with a simple yet unmistakable band.
My breath hitched. It was the same ugly band I had once clumsily made for him.
Despite everything—the bitter separation, the pain—he was still wearing it.
A small, involuntary smile tugged at my lips. For a fleeting moment, something warm stirred in my chest. He hadn't discarded it. After all this time, he still carried it with him—and flaunted it, no less, in front of the most esteemed cultivators.
I thought of the black hairpin he had crafted for me. I had considered using it earlier but had hesitated, embarrassed that he might notice. Had I known he'd be wearing that hairband, I wouldn't have hesitated to wear the hairpin too.
But my quiet reflection was shattered in an instant.
A sharp sensation—a split-second ripple of violent energy—struck without warning. I spun instinctively, but too late. The blast of qi slammed into my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. The world tilted as I was hurled backward, crashing hard onto the ground. Pain exploded through my ribs, and I coughed, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.
Through my blurred vision, I saw the source.
Yin Wu.
His face was twisted, contorted with pure hatred. He raised his hand again, gathering a second surge of energy that pulsed and cracked with deadly force.
The second blast was already hurtling toward me. There was no time to evade. My weakened body wouldn't respond fast enough. I raised my arm reflexively—a futile attempt to shield myself—bracing for the inevitable impact.
But it never came.
Instead, an explosion erupted just a few feet away, shattering the grand pavilion's towering wooden doors into fragments that rained down like deadly splinters.
A dark figure had stepped between me and the attack, his wide black sleeves billowing, his tall frame standing firm like an unmovable wall. His back shielded me completely, his presence radiating raw, suffocating power.
I struggled to sit up, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. But before I could utter a word, he moved.
Faster than my eyes could follow, his silhouette flashed forward like a shadow streaking through moonlight. In an instant, he closed the distance between himself and Yin Wu. His open palm connected sharply with Yin Wu's face, the impact producing a crack that echoed through the courtyard. Without giving him time to recover, Ruan Yanjun followed with two rapid palm strikes to his chest, sending Yin Wu's body airborne like a broken doll.
Before Yin Wu could hit the ground, Ruan Yanjun was already beneath him, catching him mid-air by the neck. His hand clamped down, lifting Yin Wu effortlessly off the ground. Yin Wu kicked and struggled, his face reddening as Ruan Yanjun's fingers closed like iron around his throat.
Ruan Yanjun raised his other hand—index finger extended, crackling with dark, lethal energy—poised to pierce Yin Wu's forehead.
In that moment, the killing intent in him was absolute.
"Sect Leader Ruan, stop!" a voice rang out—half-pleading, half-commanding. The tension snapped like a stretched cord.
Chairman Xie appeared beside them, gripping Ruan Yanjun's wrist to halt the final blow. His expression was calm but firm, his voice steady despite the suffocating pressure radiating from Ruan Yanjun.
"Sect Leader Ruan," Chairman Xie repeated, this time with urgency edging his tone. "Spare his life for now. This empire cannot afford to lose any more grandmasters. Not while the war continues."
For a moment, Ruan Yanjun didn't move. His gaze burned into Yin Wu, his fury still simmering, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. His terrifying silence pressed down on the courtyard like a storm about to break, suffocating everyone who bore witness.
In the midst of it all, gentle hands reached for me. I looked up to see Huang Wen, his face unusually tense as he carefully pulled me to my feet. His eyes scanned me quickly, as though searching for signs of deeper injury.
I clutched my ribs and whispered, "I'm fine."
But my gaze remained locked on Ruan Yanjun.
Even after everything I had seen of him, his strength still left me breathless. Yin Wu—a grandmaster—had stood no chance. His speed, his precision… it was otherworldly. I had only caught glimpses of his strikes, but the overwhelming force behind them had been undeniable.
The Devil of the South had once again made it clear that no one, not even grandmasters, could match him.
After a long, tense moment, Ruan Yanjun exhaled slowly. The dark energy flickering around his fingertips dimmed and vanished. With a final, low growl, he released Yin Wu, shoving him toward the chairman like a discarded object.
"If you lay a finger on him again," Ruan Yanjun said coldly, his voice razor-sharp, "I'll make sure not even your ashes remain."
The words struck me harder than the blow I had just endured. My chest tightened at the fire burning in his eyes, the faint tremor in his fingers. All that rage… was it because of me?
Chairman Xie gestured for his attendants to take the battered Yin Wu away. "Take him inside," he ordered, voice composed but firm. Two men quickly stepped forward and carried Yin Wu off, his defeated form limp and silent.
Then, Ruan Yanjun turned back toward me.
His eyes—so often cold and indifferent—softened just barely as they met mine. He bent down and picked up my bamboo stick from where it had fallen. His long fingers brushed the dirt off the smooth surface with deliberate care before he approached.
Without a word, he extended the stick toward me.
I reached out and took it, my fingers brushing against his. A strange current passed between us—brief, yet enough to send my pulse racing. Then, with a tenderness so unexpected it left me breathless, Ruan Yanjun reached out and gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
I froze. The heat of his touch lingered on my skin, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.
He didn't respond. His gaze swept over me—slowly, carefully—as though ensuring no further injury had been inflicted. Only when he seemed satisfied did he finally turn and walk away, his black robes swirling softly with each step, cutting through the uneasy air like a blade.
Huang Wen lingered for a moment longer, his eyes flicking briefly between me and his master. He gave me a slight nod before silently following after Ruan Yanjun.
I stood rooted in place, clutching my bamboo stick, my heart still pounding in my chest. My mind swirled with emotions I couldn't name.
"Sect Leader Luo," Chairman Xie approached, his tone composed, though tinged with quiet apology. "I must offer my sincerest apologies for what happened. Rest assured, Sect Leader Wu will face appropriate consequences for his disgraceful conduct."
I nodded absently, though my attention remained fixed on Ruan Yanjun's fading silhouette.
Chairman Xie paused, then continued, lowering his voice. "Priest Luo… may I trouble you with a personal request?"
I glanced at him, already knowing where this conversation was heading.
"Would you speak with Sect Leader Ruan?" the chairman asked. "We will no longer demand he pledge half his disciples. Whatever number he's willing to offer—we would greatly appreciate. Without his involvement, our coalition stands little chance."
I let out a heavy sigh, my gaze still drawn toward the distant figure of Ruan Yanjun, who by now was approaching his carriage.
"He's not speaking to me," I answered softly.
Before the chairman could respond, a teasing voice chimed in from behind. "Have you two broken up?" another grandmaster asked, his tone light and mischievous.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I turned sharply to face him. "It's not like that," I said hastily. "We've never had that kind of relationship."
The two exchanged knowing glances, clearly unconvinced, but they wisely let the matter drop.
Chairman Xie softened his tone. "Even so… you may be the only person he would still listen to." His voice was kind, but I could hear the desperation beneath it.
Another sigh escaped me. "I'll try."
A small smile spread across Chairman Xie's face. "Thank you. I'll be staying at the Wang Residence until the end of the week. Please notify me if you succeed."
"I will," I replied politely, though deep inside, I wasn't sure what kind of answer I would receive if I truly approached Ruan Yanjun.
Chairman Xie gestured toward the pavilion behind him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "If you wish to rejoin the discussion, the door is wide open. Literally." His gaze flicked briefly toward the shattered remains of the pavilion's entrance.
I bowed respectfully. "Thank you, but I will take this opportunity to speak with Sect Leader Ruan."
"Excellent," Chairman Xie replied, stepping aside with a knowing nod.
Turning away, I followed after Ruan Yanjun, my heart pounding as I trailed his retreating figure. Despite all the time we had spent together in the past—traveling side by side, sharing meals beneath moonlit skies, even sleeping under the same roof—approaching him now felt far more daunting than facing any grandmaster on the battlefield.
"Lord Ruan," I called softly.
He didn't turn.
Up ahead, Huang Wen stood by the carriage, pulling the curtain aside in silent deference. But instead of boarding, Ruan Yanjun spoke quietly to him. "Return to the residence. I'll walk."
My breath caught. A small flicker of hope stirred within me. This was my chance.
The carriage departed, leaving only the two of us in the gradually emptying street. Ruan Yanjun turned down a quiet, shaded path, his steps calm and unhurried, as though the events of the congregation had never touched him.
I followed, maintaining a respectful distance. The weight of unspoken words pressed heavily on my chest, but still, I hesitated to break the silence again. Every step felt heavier than the last, my pulse loud in my ears. Finally, when the street ahead grew emptier and quieter, I gathered my courage.
"Lord Ruan," I tried again, my voice low but steady. "Thank you for earlier. For defending me... for saving my life. I owe you much."
Still, he said nothing. His silence stretched between us like a deep, cold river—unfathomable, impossible to cross.
My throat tightened. I searched for something, anything, to draw him out of this frigid distance.
As we passed a modest roadside restaurant, the scent of warm broth and roasted duck filled the air, and an idea sparked. Desperation lent me courage.
"Lord Ruan," I said gently, forcing a faint smile onto my face, "you haven't eaten yet, have you? Allow me to treat you to lunch."
No reply. He kept walking, as if my words hadn't reached him at all.
My hands curled into nervous fists. I could feel the chance slipping away.
In a sudden surge of boldness, I reached out and grasped his wrist.
"Come," I said softly, gently tugging.
To my surprise, he didn't resist. His arm remained limp in my grasp, allowing me to pull him toward the restaurant's entrance. My heart raced, stunned by his quiet compliance.