The "Golden Goose Tavern" was not exactly a high-class establishment. It was loud, the tables were sticky, and the air smelled heavily of garlic and roasted mystery meat. But for the Outer Sect disciples, it was heaven.
"To the Monster of the Arena!" Fatty Wu bellowed, raising a tankard of cheap ale that spilled over onto his knuckles. "To Brother Jiang! And to Senior Sister Gu! The terrifying duo!"
"Cheers!"
Han Yu and Little Que clinked their cups enthusiastically. Even Gu Ling, who usually dined in the silent, sterile halls of the Inner Sect, held a small porcelain cup of tea, looking amused.
They had pushed two tables together to fit everyone. Gu Ling was parked at the head of the table, her chair lowered slightly on its hydraulics so she could reach the food comfortably.
"I still can't believe it," Han Yu said, shaking his head as he tore into a chicken leg. "Li Murong... he's a legend. We study his sword forms in class. And Brother Jiang just... slapped him into a wall with a fan."
"It wasn't just a slap," Little Que corrected, her mouth full of rice. "It was a tactical slap. The wind pressure was insane! Brother Jiang, what cultivation technique is that? 'Typhoon Palm'? 'Dragon's Breath'?"
Jiang Fan was slumped in his chair, picking at a plate of peanuts. He looked exhausted.
"It's called 'I Wanted To Go Home'," Jiang Fan mumbled. "It's a very high-level technique. It scales with how annoyed I am."
Gu Ling sipped her tea, hiding a smile. She watched him. Under the dim lantern light, he didn't look like a mysterious genius. He looked like a tired boy who just wanted a nap.
"You took a risk," Gu Ling said quietly, her voice cutting through the noise of the tavern. "Blocking that Gale Slash. If your Qi density had been even one percent lower, you would be in the infirmary right now without arms."
Jiang Fan looked at her. "Trust the math, Senior Sister. I calculated the trajectory."
"You were asleep until the fight started," she countered. "You didn't calculate anything. You guessed."
"An educated guess."
The table laughed. It was a warm, human sound. Gu Ling felt a strange tightness in her chest loosen. For years, her meals had been solitary affairs in her workshop, surrounded by cold iron and blueprints. This... this was nice.
"So," Fatty Wu leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Finals are in three days. Who do we think the Elders are going to throw at you next? The Sect Master himself?"
"Don't jinx it," Jiang Fan groaned. "Knowing my luck, they'll summon a dragon."
Later that night.
The walk back to the Frost Forge Pavilion was quiet. The moon was full, casting long, silver shadows across the stone path.
Jiang Fan was walking beside Gu Ling. She had set her chair to "Cruise Mode," so it rolled silently beside him at a walking pace. He wasn't pushing her—she hated being pushed when she didn't need it—but he stayed close enough that their sleeves occasionally brushed.
"You're quiet," Jiang Fan observed, breaking the silence. "Usually you're yelling at me about my posture or my lack of ambition."
Gu Ling looked straight ahead at the winding path. Her hands rested on her lap, playing with the edge of her silver robe.
"I was thinking about what you said earlier," she admitted softly. "About Li Murong working hard."
"Yeah? He does. Guy probably hasn't eaten a carb in five years."
"I work hard too, Jiang Fan."
She stopped her chair. The sudden lack of motion seemed to make the night air colder.
Jiang Fan stopped and turned to look at her. "I know you do. You work harder than anyone I know."
"And yet," Gu Ling whispered, gripping her paralyzed knees. "I am still sitting here. And you... you sleep all day, you mock the heavens, and you are stronger than me."
There was no anger in her voice, only a deep, hollow sadness.
"I was born with the Nine Yin Frost Body," she continued, looking up at him. Her silver eyes reflected the moonlight. "My meridians are naturally wide, allowing me to cultivate ice Qi faster than anyone. But the energy is too heavy. It settled in my legs when I was five years old."
She tapped her useless legs.
"It froze the nerves. Killed them. My father, the Clan Head, spent a fortune on healers. They all said the same thing: 'She is a genius, but she is broken.' Eventually, he stopped looking at me. He looked at my brothers instead."
Jiang Fan listened. He didn't interrupt. He didn't offer empty platitudes like "it gets better."
"I built this chair," Gu Ling said, tapping the armrest fiercely. "I built the cannons. I learned to forge weapons that can kill Golden Core masters. I did all of it to prove that I didn't need to stand up to be tall."
She looked at Jiang Fan, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"But today... when Li Murong attacked... for a split second, I was terrified. Not for myself. But because I couldn't jump in front of you. I couldn't shield you. I was just... stuck in the mud."
She looked down. "I hate being a liability, Jiang Fan."
Jiang Fan sighed. He scratched the back of his head, looking up at the stars.
"You know," he said casually. "You're looking at it wrong."
Gu Ling wiped her eyes angrily. "Don't give me philosophy. You don't know what it's like."
"No, I mean physically. You're looking at the mechanics wrong."
Jiang Fan walked over and sat down on the low stone wall beside the path, so he was sitting at the same height as her.
"The Nine Yin energy is heavy, right? Like lead?"
"Yes. It sinks."
"So, right now, it's pooling in your legs like water in a clogged drain. It's crushing your nerves."
Jiang Fan leaned forward, his expression intense.
"What if you didn't fight it? What if you didn't try to circulate it up? What if you let it flow out?"
Gu Ling frowned. "Flow out? If I expel my Qi, I lose my cultivation."
"Not into the air," Jiang Fan pointed at her chair. "Into the metal."
He tapped the Spirit-Iron wheel of her chair.
"You treat the chair like a vehicle. A tool. But what if you treated it like a prosthetic limb? What if you extended your meridians into the chair?"
Gu Ling's eyes widened. "Extend meridians into an object? That's ancient Puppet Master theory. It's impossible. Flesh and iron cannot merge."
"Why not?" Jiang Fan shrugged. "Your chair has Spirit-Iron veins, right? If you bonded with it... if you dumped that heavy, toxic frost energy out of your legs and into the chassis... two things happen."
He held up two fingers.
"One: Your legs stop being crushed by the pressure. The nerves might... might... start to heal. Or at least stop hurting."
"And two?" Gu Ling asked, her breath catching in her throat.
"Two: Your chair becomes a part of your body. You wouldn't need a control stick. You would move it with a thought. You could dance in it, Gu Ling."
Gu Ling stared at him. Her mind, the mind of a genius artificer, was racing. The theory was insane. Dangerous. It would require surgically implanting Spirit-Conduits into her own spine to connect to the chair.
But... it made sense.
"You..." she whispered. "You came up with that just now?"
"I was thinking about how lazy it is to use a joystick," Jiang Fan lied smoothly. (In reality, he had queried the System for 'Paralysis Cures' and found a fragmented blueprint for The Mecha-Soul Bind).
"It's just a theory," Jiang Fan stood up. "But we have a few days before the Finals. Maybe we can try it."
Gu Ling looked at her chair. Then she looked at Jiang Fan.
For the first time in her life, the chair didn't look like a cage. It looked like a chrysalis.
"You are a madman," she said softly. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. "But... I will think about it."
"Good. Thinking is less tiring than crying."
He stepped behind her chair. "Come on. Let me push you the rest of the way. I need the exercise. I ate too many peanuts."
Gu Ling didn't argue. She released the controls and leaned back, closing her eyes, letting him guide her home.
The Frost Forge Pavilion
They arrived at the entrance to her workshop twenty minutes later. The pavilion was usually lit by the soft blue glow of the everlasting ice-lamps.
Tonight, it was dark.
Jiang Fan stopped the chair abruptly.
"Hold on," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"What is it?" Gu Ling opened her eyes, instantly alert.
"The lamps are out. Did you schedule a maintenance shutdown?"
"No. Those lamps run on a perpetual array. They never go out."
Gu Ling reached for her armrest controls, her instincts screaming danger. "Someone is inside."
Jiang Fan narrowed his eyes.
[ System Alert: Intruder Detected. ][ Threat Level: Stage 5 (Assassin) ][ Location: Hiding in the rafters above the forge. ]
"Stay here," Jiang Fan commanded softly.
"No," Gu Ling hissed. "This is my home. If someone broke in, they are going to regret it."
She tapped her armrest. A hidden compartment clicked open, and she pulled out a Repeating Crossbow.
They moved into the darkened workshop together—Jiang Fan walking silently on the balls of his feet, Gu Ling gliding forward with her hover-drive set to minimum power to reduce the hum.
The workshop was a mess. Tables were overturned. Blueprints were scattered across the floor, torn to shreds.
"My designs..." Gu Ling whispered, anger flaring in her chest.
"They weren't looking for designs," Jiang Fan noted, pointing to the forge. "They were looking for sabotage."
The massive central furnace, usually burning with blue ice-fire, had been doused. A strange, black sludge was dripping from the ventilation pipes.
"Black-Rot Oil," Gu Ling gasped. "If I had ignited the forge tomorrow... it would have exploded. It would have leveled the entire pavilion."
"And us with it," Jiang Fan added grimly.
CREAK.
A sound from above.
Jiang Fan reacted instantly. He didn't look up. He simply kicked the side of Gu Ling's chair, shoving her hard to the right.
"Move!"
THUNK-THUNK-THUNK.
Three black throwing knives embedded themselves in the floor exactly where Gu Ling had been sitting a second ago.
"Well, well," a silky voice echoed from the darkness of the rafters. "Reflexes like a cat. Elder Mo was right to be worried."
A figure dropped from the ceiling, landing silently on the workbench. He was dressed in black tight-fitting armor, his face covered by a mask that looked like a smiling porcelain doll.
"Who are you?" Gu Ling demanded, raising her crossbow. "Identify yourself!"
The assassin chuckled. He spun a dagger between his fingers.
"I am just a cleaner. The Sect has become... cluttered with trash recently."
He looked at Jiang Fan.
"You should have stayed asleep, boy. Now you have to die awake."
Jiang Fan looked at the mess in the workshop. He looked at Gu Ling's torn blueprints—years of her hard work destroyed in minutes.
He sighed. It was a long, heavy sigh.
"System," Jiang Fan said out loud.
[ System: Online. ]
"I'm buying the 'Domain Expansion: Gravity Field'. Put it on my tab."
[ Purchase Confirmed: 2,000 IP Deducted. ]
Jiang Fan looked at the assassin. His eyes were no longer bored. They were pitch black.
"You made a mistake," Jiang Fan said softly. "You woke me up. And you broke her stuff."
He took a step forward.
"Now... sit down."