The three of them gathered in the middle of the training ground. Song Meiyu jumped into sparring without missing a beat, loud and full of energy. He Yuying, on the other hand, stayed silent, looking vaguely annoyed as usual. Shen Zhenyu stood nearby with his arms crossed, watching them like a strict teacher who already regretted volunteering.
Meanwhile, Linyue strolled to the edge of the training ground, found a nice shady spot under a tree, and promptly sat down on the ground.
Naturally, Shu Mingye followed. He stared at her as she stretched her legs and leaned back against the tree.
"You're not going to train too?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Linyue answered without hesitation. "Of course not."
"Then, what are you doing here?"
"Sitting. Watching." She paused, then added. "And probably napping."
He glanced around at the very outdoor, very dusty, very loud training ground. "Napping? Here?"
She shrugged. "I can sleep anywhere."
Shu Mingye stared at her. Dressed in plain robes, powdered face, speaking with a straight expression about how she could nap in the middle of flying fists and kicking feet. He let out a low, helpless laugh before he could stop himself. This woman might actually drive him insane. And the worst part was… he would probably thank her for it with a smile.
But then his mind drifted back. That day. Her blue flame. Untamed, brilliant, and terrifyingly beautiful. He had not stopped thinking about it since.
The question slipped out before he could hold it back. "Why couldn't I sense your cultivation level?"
Linyue answered in her usual calm voice. "Because I couldn't either."
He froze. His brow furrowed. She… couldn't? How could someone not know their own cultivation level? That wasn't just odd. It was impossible. Unless… she was hiding something.
Shu Mingye's thoughts twisted in circles. How many secrets did she have hidden behind that unreadable face and that jade dust powder? Every time he thought he understood her, another layer slipped away. He wanted to ask more. The questions burned on his tongue. But he didn't want to push her. If she didn't want to tell him, then he would wait. He just hoped there would be a day she'd tell him herself. But even as he thought that, a small weight pulled at his heart.
What if that day never came? What if she left before it did?
His heart sank quietly. He had no idea how long she planned to stay here. And if she did leave… would he be able to let her go?
He didn't have the confidence to say yes. But what if she stayed? Would she be happy? Safe? He had enemies. Too many to count. People who would use her against him without a second thought. Just the idea of it made something cold curl in his chest. And yet, when he looked at her now—sleepy, expression blank, completely unaffected by the chaos around her—he also felt warm. Peaceful, somehow. She wasn't easy to understand. She confused him, teased him, stabbed him with honesty, and left him emotionally dizzy every five minutes. But he wouldn't trade her for anything.
The breeze was soft, the sun warm, the shade just right. It was the perfect weather… for a nap. Linyue sat peacefully under the tree, back resting against the trunk, eyes half-lidded. Her thoughts drifted like clouds, slow and quiet. She was just about to fall asleep when—
"Sister Linyue, come here! Try this weapon!" Song Meiyu shouted, full of energy as always.
Linyue opened her eyes lazily. She tilted her head and saw Song Meiyu bouncing toward her, holding something long and black.
A whip.
The handle was polished black wood, and the whip itself was braided soft leather. It looked more like something used for training a stubborn horse than fighting a battle.
"…I prefer chopping. Or poking," she said flatly.
Shu Mingye laughed under his breath. Chopping or poking? Only she could reduce life-or-death combat techniques to such ridiculous terms.
"Just try it! It's fun!" Song Meiyu said, bouncing on her feet.
With a sigh that screamed I was so close to napping, Linyue pushed herself up from her perfect shady spot and walked slowly toward the center of the training ground.
Training dummies stood in a neat line, waiting to be abused.
Shen Zhenyu took the whip from Song Meiyu and held it out to Linyue. "Have you ever used one of these before?"
Linyue shook her head. "No."
Shu Mingye crossed his arms, his sharp gaze fixed on her. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. This… this should be interesting.
Linyue accepted the whip with one hand. She studied it carefully, turning it over, examining the polished handle and braided leather. Then she tilted her head, as if pondering something deeply important.
Was it flexible enough for chopping? Too flimsy for poking? Could it be repurposed into something nap-friendly?
Shen Zhenyu, already sensing disaster, quickly stepped in and took the whip from her hand. "I'll show you first."
He gave a small nod to the others—a silent stand back if you value your lives—then turned to face the nearest training dummy. With one smooth flick of his wrist—smack!—the whip shot forward and slammed right into the dummy's chest. The poor wooden figure rocked back and collapsed dramatically. Then without pause, Shen Zhenyu moved again. The whip flew out, curling perfectly around the neck of another dummy. With a sharp tug—whoosh!—he yanked it forward, then casually tossed it aside.
Linyue blinked.
Well. That escalated fast.
Shen Zhenyu, as cool and expressionless as ever, turned back to her and offered the whip like nothing happened.
She took it slowly, her fingers curling around the handle with caution.
Shu Mingye raised an eyebrow in silent amusement. This was about to get very, very interesting.
He Yuying strolled over to the toppled training dummies. One by one, he set them back in place—each one a fallen victim of Shen Zhenyu's earlier quiet destruction.
Meanwhile, Linyue stepped forward, whip in hand. The moment she did, everyone else instinctively took a generous step back. Except Shu Mingye. He stayed where he was, arms crossed, expression far too amused for a man who was supposed to be the terrifying Demon King. He clearly wanted a front-row seat for whatever chaos was about to unfold.
Linyue raised the whip, copying Shen Zhenyu's earlier motion and gave it a flick.
Smack!
The whip snapped through the air and struck the dummy square on the head. A clean hit. The wooden figure wobbled side to side, but stubbornly refused to fall.
Encouraged by her first hit, Linyue raised the whip again.
This time, however, the whip had other plans.
She flicked her wrist—whoosh!—the whip snapped back too fast. Before she could adjust her grip, it curled midair and wrapped itself neatly around her own ankle.
She froze. "…?"
Linyue stared down at her leg, utterly expressionless. Then she tried to move her hand again.
Mistake. Big mistake. The whip tightened its hold. Her ankle gave an unexpected tug, and suddenly she was hopping in place like a confused bunny.
Song Meiyu gasped loudly.
Shu Mingye let out a strangled noise that might've been a laugh but turned quickly into a polite cough. He was trying to keep a straight face. Failing, but trying.
Meanwhile, Linyue kept hopping—calmly, methodically, like hopping was a perfectly acceptable training strategy.
"This weapon is cursed," she announced flatly.
He Yuying snorted, barely hiding his grin. "Or maybe the user is."
Shen Zhenyu reached out silently to help untangle the whip from her ankle, while Song Meiyu clapped her hands and beamed. "That was adorable! Do it again!"
Linyue narrowed her eyes. "No."
Shu Mingye finally gave in and laughed, warm and unrestrained. "Remind me to never give you a rope."
Linyue stared at him and lifted the whip threateningly. "Careful," she said. "I might learn how to use it."
Shu Mingye's grin widened. "I'm counting on it."
Linyue raised an eyebrow but didn't reply. She was still considering if she liked the whip or not. It had betrayed her once, but maybe it deserved a second chance.
Shen Zhenyu calmly suggested, "It was your first time. Why don't you try again?"
Linyue paused to consider, then gave a small nod. That made sense. It was her first time. Things could have gone worse. She could've faceplanted, or accidentally taken someone down with her. So really, by her standards, she was doing great.
She stepped up to the training dummy again, whip in hand. She flicked her wrist.
Crack!
The whip snapped through the air and struck the dummy square on the head again. The wooden figure wobbled violently. This time, Linyue didn't wait for disaster. She snapped her wrist forward quickly, faster than before, refusing to let the whip betray her twice.
Smack!
The whip struck the dummy's chest with a sharper, louder sound. The dummy wobbled, leaned and finally toppled over with a very satisfying thud.
A small smile appeared on Linyue's lips.
Progress.
The whip bounced back, snaking through the air. This time though, it flew at a slightly odd angle. Linyue raised her arm, ready to snap it forward again when—
"Ahh—WAIT, wait, don't pull!" a panicked voice yelped from behind.
Everyone turned.