The black veins spiderwebbed across Li Wei's neck with terrifying speed, a dark web against his suddenly ashen skin. Qianyi caught him as he fell, her own divine energy flaring in a desperate, golden surge.
She pressed her hand over the festering bite, not to heal, but to impose stability, to force the chaotic corruption to obey a fundamental law—that a body should not unravel. It was like trying to hold back a tide with bare hands.
A low, pained groan rattled in his chest, a sound so alien from her stoic A'Wei that it froze the blood in her own veins.
"Move! Let me see!" Wù Fēng's voice was a whip-crack of authority, cutting through her panic. He knelt, his hand hovering over Li Wei's body. A profound, gentle warmth emanated from him, a divine pressure that pushed back against the oily malevolence seeping from the wound. "This is not just poison. It is created from pure resentment and fused with the deadliest venom in the realm. We need to stabilize him. Now."
He looked at Qianyi, his gaze intense. "I need you to draw as much of the poison out as possible."
"How," Qianyi begged desperately. How?"
"The same way you flushed out the blight in Pang'an," Wu Feng instructed. "The poison is a naturally occurring venom in viper. You don't commune with nature. You command it."
Qianyi, still pressing Li We's would as he lay twitching in her arms, adjusted her hands, placing on hand on his cheek.
He then turned his head to look at Yisha, who was hovering, her hands glowing with frantic, useless light. "And you will need to protect his meridians. Do you remember how?"
Yisha was frozen, her light sputtering, paralyzed by the sight of her invincible brother laid so low.
"Shāshā!" Wù Fēng yelled, his voice sharp, desperate.
And his voice—that very yell, the specific timbre of it—pierced through her. It was an echo from a forgotten dream, a ghost from a childhood memory she could never quite grasp. It snapped her out of her daze and back into focus.
"You're going to protect his meridians, okay?" Wù Fēng assured her, his tone softening into a plea.
"Okay," Yisha agreed, her voice firming.
"I will guard his core and slow the malevolence. Qianyi flushes the poison. Now."
Yisha reached out, her luminous power flowing to join Wù Fēng's, and a shocking realization jolted through her. It wasn't just that their energies were compatible. As they intertwined around Li Wei's faltering life force, she felt no resistance, no discord.
His divine essence and hers slid together like two halves of a whole, identical in their fundamental frequency, their spiritual weight, their very taste. They were the same.
In the midst of the crisis, the truth finally dawned on her: they shared a source.
The combined effort of the three gods formed a fragile, shimmering lattice of power around Li Wei's heart and core. The violent spread of the black veins slowed, coagulating under the pressure, but they did not recede. He was stabilized, but trapped in a feverish, pained stasis.
"We cannot stay here," Wù Fēng said, his voice tight with strain. "This is a temporary measure. He needs true sanctuary."
Yisha's head snapped up. "The abandoned homestead. We passed it not a half-li back. It had a wall, it was secluded..."
"Absolutely not," Qianyi cut in, her voice trembling. "It's too dangerous for you to go alone. We don't know what's lurking."
"I'll be careful," Yisha promised, reaching out to touch her sister's face. Her touch was steady, her light a comfort. "I promise."
As she began to stand, her eyes met Wù Fēng's. He was still kneeling, his fingers on Li Wei's pulse, but his gaze was locked on her. In his eyes, she saw not just concern for Li Wei, but a deep, personal fear for her. The connection they had just forged, the sameness of their spirit, sang between them in the silence.
Who are you to me? The question echoed in her mind, louder than any thunder.
Yisha walked to the horses to prepare for reconnaissance. As she placed her foot in the stirrup, a sound cut through the frantic rhythm of her thoughts. It was a soft, rhythmic snoring. She looked down. There, tucked deep within the hollow of a withered bush where Línglóng had likely hidden, were her two dogs.
They were piled together, deeply unconscious, their sides rising and falling in the same unnatural, heavy slumber as Xuán Chè. A small, tell-tale dart was visible in the largest dog's flank. They hadn't just taken Línglóng; they had neutralized her entire family.
The sight fueled her resolve. She mounted in one fluid motion and retraced their path at a gallop. Her physical eyes scanned the dead trees and shadows for threat, but her mind was reeling, lost in the thought of Wù Fēng's voice...
That voice… it was the same. The same one from the recurring dream of her childhood, the one that always ended the same way—a desperate shout of "Shāshā!" from an unseen face, followed by a sudden, forceful push between her shoulder blades that sent her tumbling forward.
It was a warning that had saved her life, a fractured memory from a past she could never piece together. She had never seen the face of the one who called out, could never remember it—until now. The voice finally had an owner.
Soon, the high, weathered fence of the old homestead was in her sight. Yisha dismounted and approached the gate with practiced stealth. She placed a cautious hand against the wood to listen, but at her touch, the door groaned and fell inward, collapsing off its rusted hinges with a cloud of dust.
Yisha summoned her luminous sword, its light cutting through the gloom as she stepped carefully into the small, modest courtyard. Weeds choked the stone path, and the air was thick with the smell of damp rot and decay.
After a thorough investigation confirmed the property was deserted and safe, Yisha immediately set off to rejoin the others.
"It's small, but it's secure for now," she reported upon her return, her breath slightly quickened.
Now, the problem lay in transporting two unconscious men and two unconscious dogs.
"We can secure Li Wei and Xuán Chè over the horses," Wù Fēng said pragmatically. "As for the dogs…"
"We're not leaving them!" Qianyi and Yisha shouted in unison, their voices sharp with protective fervor.
"Āiyā! I wasn't going to suggest that!" Wù Fēng exclaimed, raising his hands in a defensive gesture, slightly affronted. "I was merely assessing the problem!"
"We can gather wood and make sleds," Yisha suggested.
"I have an idea," Qianyi said, excitedly.
"We could gather wood and make sleds," Yisha suggested, looking at the thick undergrowth.
"I have a better idea," Qianyi said, a spark of divine inspiration in her eyes.
She gently laid Li Wei down and knelt, placing her palms flat on the earth. She closed her eyes, channeling her energy not to command, but to request. She whispered an incantation, calling upon the land.
All around them, loose branches, fallen logs, and sturdy vines slithered and rolled toward her as if answering a summons. Wù Fēng swiftly arranged the larger logs into two solid slabs, while Qianyi directed the vines to snake around the wood, binding the frames together with supernatural strength until two sturdy, rustic sleds lay ready.
The three able-bodied deities loaded Xuán Chè, Li Wei, and Línglóng's dogs onto the finished sleds, hitched them to the horses, and made their weary way back to the abandoned cottage.
---
"Bù xíng!" Qianyi was adamant. She held Li Wei's limp hand as he lay in bed, still unconscious. "You are not going out there."
"Jiějie," Yisha tried to coax. "I'll be fine. I promise."
"I'll go with her," Wù Fēng explained. "We're just going to scout—assess the situation at Yǒngshèng Jīng and come straight back so we can formulate a real plan."
Qianyi closed her eyes in frustration. "Hǎo ba," she finally agreed, fixing Wù Fēng with a gaze that could freeze lava. "But you bring my sister back unharmed, or else a Tiānzūn wouldn't even be able to find all the pieces of your body. Míngbái le ma?"
"Understood. Perfectly understood," Wù Fēng agreed, the threat feeling entirely credible. "Shā—" He paused, the intimate nickname catching in his throat. He did not want to complicate the situation further, as he suspected Yisha was already piecing things together. "Yisha, help me set up a protective barrier before we leave."
Yisha caught the correction immediately but gave no sign. "Sure... Shīfù."
They walked out to the courtyard where Wù Fēng began instructing her on how to weave a powerful, multi-layered barrier around the small property. After the final shimmer of energy settled into place, they set off toward Yǒngshèng Jīng.
Their journey was silent, both Yisha and Wù Fēng lost in their own thoughts. Yisha wrestled with the nature of their connection—it felt ancient and safe, yet that very certainty was unnerving. Wù Fēng, meanwhile, was pulled into a memory of their shared childhood, a night under a diamond-bright sky.
---
The small Celestial Village was lively that night. The stars twinkled like scattered diamonds on a black, velvet blanket. The moon was full, and wine cups overflowed in celebration of the Heavenly Prince's first visit to the realm.
When the servants went to escort the prince to the celebration, he was nowhere to be found. The boy had snuck out to the quiet woods, finding solace by a glassy lake where a little girl played alone. Her skin was a warm brown, and her long black hair was styled in micro braids adorned with tiny, shimmering jewels.
She was picking moonlit flowers and twirling in the grass, utterly content. The young prince watched with a joy he hadn't felt all evening. At least someone's having fun, he thought. He stepped closer, attempting to remain undetected, not wanting to ruin her peace. But the girl's instincts were keen, and without turning around, she beckoned him over.
The boy walked over shyly. He was dressed lavishly in heavenly robes of white and gold, his long hair secured in a topknot by an elaborate white jade guān.
"You're that prince I'm supposed to marry when I get older, right," she asked pointedly, but rhetorically as she threw a rock into the lake. "I'm Jia Yisha. You can call me Shasha."
The prince looked down, suddenly sad and ashamed.
"It's okay. I don't want to marry you, either," she said, her voice cheerful and matter-of-fact. "We can be friends, though. What's your name?"
Shasha grinned. "Okay, Ā-Fēng. We can be best friends."
For one golden month, they were inseparable. While the celestial court buzzed with formalities, the prince and the radiant girl were thick as thieves, exploring the woods and sharing secrets by the lake, their laughter a shield against the weight of their destinies.
Then, disaster struck.
It did not come with an army, but with a terrible, silent rip in the fabric of the world. Dark, malevolent voids of pure resentment tore through the village, poisoning the very air and snuffing out divine life in an instant. It was a slaughter.
Amid the chaos and screaming, as the villagers fled, one of the consuming voids surged toward Shasha. There was a desperate shout of her name, a sudden, forceful shove between her shoulder blades that sent her flying to safety—and her head struck stone, plunging her world into blackness.
When Yisha awoke, it was to the feeling of gentle rocking and Qianyi's arms tightly wrapped around her, hiding her in a dark, damp cave. The vibrant celestial village was gone. The stars had gone out. And she never saw her Ā-Fēng again.
The boy, the friendship, the trauma—all of it was buried, surviving only as fragmented dreams and a phantom echo of a voice calling her name.