Morning broke cold as shattered glass.
Though it was still autumn's dying breath, the wind carried winter's whisper—thin, sharp, and deliberate, brushing against their robes like invisible fingers testing the strength of silk before tearing it apart. The group gathered in silence, shoulders hunched against the chill and breaths visible as small ghosts. Not even Lan Xueyao, usually the first to make light of dire circumstances, said a word.
In the distance, the mouth of the Spirit Echo Cave gaped wide like a wound in the mountain's flesh.
Lu Rourou squinted at it with obvious disappointment. "That's it? This pathetic cave? We went through all that suffering for... that?"
Lingque, human-shaped and still pale from her recent possession, sniffed with divine disdain. "Don't slack off now, girl. You've earned your way here through blood and terror. Go acquire a decent artifact for once."
"Lingque is right," Lan Xueyao added, stretching until her joints popped. "I won't perish without one, but I wouldn't mind a flashy saber that glows when I wink at it."
Up front, Shen Yao and Yan Zheng led with quiet alertness, Qingze beside them like a shadow made flesh. Behind, Hua Ling, Mochen, and Chen Xinyu walked nearly in perfect step. The silence between them felt not heavy, but tightly bound—as if all three were listening for the same unspoken thing.
The cave loomed before them, half-hidden in creeping vines and the jagged curve of ancient stone. Just as they were about to step into its hungry darkness—
"Oh, finally. I've found you all."
The voice was soft, falsely relieved, sweet as poisoned honey.
Chi Ruyan stood at the trail's base, dust on her hem and a pout already forming on painted lips.
Lan Xueyao's brow lifted with suspicion. "Where were you? You vanished without a word or warning."
Ruyan's smile barely twitched, controlled as a puppet's expression. "Ambushed by spirits. I lost the way. I nearly died out there alone."
Hua Ling didn't look at her. He hummed noncommittally and kept walking with fluid grace.
Ruyan's expression stiffened like freezing water, but she didn't press him. Instead, she moved to his side like a shadow desperately trying to find its owner. Mochen glanced back and let out a single, quiet laugh through his nose—dark with knowing.
---
Inside the cave, the air was damp and hushed as a held breath. Their footsteps echoed in soft ripples, fading quickly into oppressive darkness. Shadows layered upon shadows until depth became meaningless. At one point, Xinyu, stumbling slightly on uneven ground, reached out blindly and grabbed someone's sleeve—then clung to the arm for support without thinking.
Only when they reached a crack of sunlight slicing through the cave wall like a divine blade did Xinyu glance up.
His fingers were wrapped around Hua Ling's wrist.
And he had been leaning against the prince's chest the entire time.
He flinched backward immediately, ears burning red, pulse racing faster than fear alone could explain.
Hua Ling glanced down and said nothing—but something flickered in his dark eyes.
Chi Ruyan had seen it all.
---
They soon reached the pond—an unearthly circle of still, mirror-like water that pulsed faintly with ancient energy older than memory. A floating inscription read in characters of light: "He who stirs stillness shall receive his heart's reflection."
"You must channel your qi into the water," Qingze explained with scholarly precision. "It will pull you into its depths. If the cave deems you worthy, you'll find a spiritual artifact inside."
One by one, they stepped forward to face judgment.
Yan Zheng walked calmly to the edge, touched his fingers to the surface with practiced grace, and vanished beneath it with barely a ripple—as if the water had been waiting for him.
"...He didn't even try," Shen Yao muttered with envious admiration. "Show-off."
Next was Lan Xueyao, then Lu Rourou. Both succeeded after brief concentration and disappeared into the pond's embrace. Xinyu stepped forward, took a deep breath, and pressed his hand to the water—
Nothing.
He tried again with greater effort.
Still nothing.
His mark began to glow on his neck—hot and searing like a brand. A spike of pain shot down his spine like lightning through his bones.
"Again," he muttered through gritted teeth. Sweat dripped down his jaw. The pain was blinding, like something was gnawing at his very soul from within.
Lingque, worry painting her delicate features, moved closer. "Focus. I'll lend you some of my energy."
She placed her palm on his back, sending a steady stream of spiritual force. But it was as if something within him was devouring it like a bottomless pit.
Mochen stepped forward, brows furrowed with dark concern. "It's not working."
Then, suddenly, Hua Ling pulled Mochen aside with firm hand and knelt before Xinyu himself.
He didn't speak at first. Just pressed two elegant fingers to Xinyu's wrist and felt the pulsing discord of his energy—chaotic, poisoned, wrong.
"What are you doing?" Mochen snapped.
"Quiet," Hua Ling said flatly, voice brooking no argument.
Chi Ruyan's hands clenched in her sleeves until nails drew blood.
Mochen narrowed his eyes with dawning realization. "You already know what's wrong, don't you?"
Chi Ruyan's heart skipped like a stone across water. He knows.
But Hua Ling only stared at Xinyu for a moment longer, then caught him as he collapsed forward, utterly exhausted. He lifted him upright, seated beside him like a silent anchor in stormy seas.
Xinyu's breath was shallow and labored. His mark glowed with eerie light that hurt to look at.
Hua Ling looked at him and said quietly, voice carrying unexpected gentleness, "Try again."
"...Dianxia," Xinyu croaked. "I can't. Something's blocking me from within."
"Then break through it."
Xinyu closed his eyes and gritted his teeth until they ached. He pressed his palm once more to the water with desperate determination.
And this time—he vanished.
"Xinyu!" Lingque cried with primal fear.
But he did not fall into the pond.
---
Chen Xinyu found himself somewhere else entirely.
No water. No stone. No light.
Only silence, and a hollow sky that stretched forever.
He looked around with mounting confusion and dread.
"Where..."
A faint figure stepped out from the fog like a ghost made manifest.
Dressed in white robes that seemed to glow with inner light.
Smiling. Familiar in ways that made his soul ache.
"Ah," said the voice, soft as falling petals. "So you're the one bearing his mark now."
---
Right from Hua Ling's supporting hand, Chen Xinyu disappeared into thin air.
No splash. No ripple. Not even a breath left behind.
The cavern stilled like death itself had entered. Lingque's heart lurched painfully. She stumbled forward a step, instinct overriding all formality. "Xinyu?"
There was no answer but echoing silence.
Mochen's brows drew together in an unreadable frown. His hands tightened at his sides until knuckles went white. The flicker in his gaze betrayed him, just for a heartbeat—worry, sharp and fast as a blade to the ribs.
But Hua Ling did not move from his kneeling position.
He simply stared at the pond with expression carved from winter stone. As if this wasn't the first time someone had vanished from his grasp without warning or mercy.
Lingque's voice cracked like breaking ice. "What if something happened to him? What if—"
"Enough." Hua Ling spoke softly, but it silenced the air like the snap of a blade returning to its sheath. "We wait. There's nothing else we can do."
Lingque looked down, then turned and began pacing with agitated energy. Her footsteps echoed dully on stone, back and forth, back and forth. Her arms hugged her thin human form, as if the cold had finally reached her divine bones.
Mochen, however, said nothing at all.
He turned and walked out of the cave with purposeful steps.
---
The fog was curling low outside, shifting like breath drawn in by unseen mouths. Mochen's boots crunched lightly on damp earth. He found Chi Ruyan standing just beyond the bend in the rocks, arms crossed, eyes distant as if lost in troubled thoughts.
He did not speak. He simply grabbed her by the arm and dragged her deeper into the mist's concealing embrace.
"What—what are you doing?" she hissed, struggling against his iron grip. "Let go of me!"
But when she met his eyes, she froze.
Mochen was not angry.
He was disgusted beyond words.
"I saw what you did," he said, voice low and deadly. "I saw it with my own eyes."
Her breath caught in her throat.
For a heartbeat, she didn't speak. Then: "I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Don't play the fool now." His voice dropped into a low rasp that promised violence. "You poisoned him. I saw it back at the tournament—you thought no one would notice, didn't you?"
Her lips parted in a stammer. Her whole body stiffened like a child caught stealing from the ancestral altar.
Mochen's hand shifted from her arm to her throat with deliberate threat.
Her feet scraped backward, heels kicking up dirt in desperate scramble.
"Give me the antidote," he said with voice soft as death itself. "Or I'll end you right here."
"You... you—!" she gasped, clawing at his wrist with desperate fingernails. "Why—why do you care?! Let him rot in hell!"
"Because I don't like watching someone die for no reason," Mochen snarled, eyes flashing with barely restrained fury. "And I sure as hell don't like you deciding who gets to live and who gets to suffer."
She choked, the grip on her throat bruising delicate skin.
Mochen didn't loosen it until she clawed once more, weakly, and croaked, "I'll get it... I'll get the antidote."
His fingers loosened fractionally.
She stumbled back, coughing violently, a hand pressed to her abused throat. Her eyes glinted—spiteful, but shaken to her core. Mochen stared down at her with cold contempt.
"You'd better," he said with quiet menace. "Or I'll tell your prince what his beloved fiancée's been doing behind his back. Every. Single. Detail."
Chi Ruyan didn't respond. Her hand remained on her neck, too busy catching her breath to curse him properly.
Mochen turned and disappeared into the cave again, leaving her alone in the fog.
She squinted after him, muttering through clenched teeth and damaged pride, "You stupid bastard..."
But her hand trembled against her throat, and for the first time in years, Chi Ruyan felt the cold touch of genuine fear.