Chapter Text
It had been several months since Jiang Fengmian heard of the deaths of his best friends. With his wife breathing down his neck about starting their son's cultivation training, he'd found it difficult to properly mourn their deaths, especially when rumors about him holding a secret flame for Changse Sanren were still floating around. He often went personally to deal with night hunts in the area where they died in hopes of finding their beloved A-Ying.
The Sect Leader shuddered at the thought of Madame Yu finding out he was looking for his supposed old crush's son instead of heading straight back and focusing on his own flesh and blood. He gripped the reins of his horse more tightly and urged it forward, hoping today's search would be more fruitful than his countless other attempts.
Ahead of him, the entrance of the next city came into view, with the old plaque hanging above reading “Yiling.” As he drew near, Jiang Fengmian could smell the vivid spices the various food vendors were using on the wind, and he felt a bit of warmth bloom in his chest. Wei Changze loved spicy food, so he could easily imagine his old martial brother stopping here for some food with his little family.
He dismounted and looked through a few of the food carts before ordering some steamed buns from one. The pleasant image of his old friends’ domestic life permeated his thoughts as he waited. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before his imaginings were interrupted by a boisterous patron nearby cursing.
“Damn, that kid’s still hanging around? I thought the dogs got him for sure the other night.”
The girl sitting at the same table chided him, “Gege, be nice. The kid’s parents were those cultivators that died fighting that evil ghost a while back.”
Jiang Fengmian wasn’t in the habit of eavesdropping, but at the mention of the pair of cultivators, his interest was piqued. He followed the gaze, his own eventually landing on a small child nestled in a bundle of dirty clothes down the street. It was a pitiful sight, and his heart ached for the child, but he didn’t remotely resemble either of his old friends. He was already going to be in enough trouble with his wife if he ever brought home his martial nephew, let alone any other homeless child he saw in his travels.
“Where’s he from anyway,” the third person at the table asked.
“Who knows? The poor kid banged his head pretty good. He can barely remember his own name, let alone where he came from.”
The loud man who had first spoken up thumped his chest enthusiastically, “I know! His dad had one of those bell charms from the Jiang Sect. Shouldn’t one of his shixiongs or whatever come and get him? All these homeless kids are depressing to look at.”
“Hold on,” the third person stared hard at the kid before turning back to his companions. “Wasn’t that the other kid, though? The pretty kid that smiles real big if you give him a bit of food?”
“Who cares? They’re both dirty brats, so what’s it matter?”
Jiang Fengmian never did hear the last bit of that conversation, as he’d already gathered up the buns and left at the mention of his clan’s Clarity Bell.
It was a bright spring day when a group of white-and-red-robed cultivators leisurely rode through the rundown town of Yiling. Qishan Wen’s first young master, Wen Xu, had set off on his first night hunt with his father several days ago. Now, the prideful young master and company strode through
While his son’s first night hunt was a great success and had gone without a hitch, Wen Ruohan’s usual haughtiness seemed to be dampened considerably. As they rode through the little town not far from the accursed Burial Grounds that had plagued his clan for generations, his eyebrows furrowed as if contemplating how to deal with a great enemy.
In a sense, such an observation wouldn’t be too far off; his promising young ward seemed to be on the brink of wasting away after her sickly younger brother went missing. Wen Ruohan practically had to place Wen Qing under house arrest just to keep her from going out to search for him. He had already sent notices to many branch clans under his own, so one more person looking for him wouldn’t do much good. Wen Qing was a bright girl and was showing promise as a brilliant doctor, even at such a young age, so Wen Ruohan was concerned that she may become too distracted by her brother’s absence.
"Sect Leader Wen?"
Wen Ruohan was pulled back to reality from these vexing thoughts as the man in black riding beside him called out to him. This was Wen Zhuliu, one of his more well-trusted subordinates. While Wen Zhuliu had no taste for the thrill of inventing and testing torture devices and other such hobbies, the man was still deeply dedicated to serving Wen Ruohan. This, as well as his unique ability to melt golden cores with his bare hand, earned him quite a bit of respect from the unabashedly egotistical clan leader.
Sparing him a sideways glance, Wen Ruohan tersely responded, "What is it, Zhuliu?"
"Is something troubling you, Sect Leader?"
There was a beat of silence. Wen Ruohan would never admit to any sort of weakness. He was the sun shining in the sky as far as the cultivation world was concerned. In any other situation, he very well may have denied any implication that something was bothering him, it had been several months by now, yet there was still no trace of his nephew.
After some consideration, Wen Ruohan decided his talented subordinate may actually be of some use in dealing with his troubled ward.
"A-Ning is still missing, and A-Qing has been falling behind on her studies," He explained in an even tone, "It would be a shame for such a talented young cultivator to waste her talent."
Wen Zhuliu thought for a moment before offering a suggestion, "Taking care of a pet may offer a good distraction to get Wen-guniang's mind off of things for the moment. Maybe a dog?"
Wen Ruohan's eyes flashed with a murderous look at the mention of dogs. He'd recently learned that a few of the bolder clans had taken to calling his clan "Wen dogs," so Wen Ruohan found himself despising them all the more fervently than before.
As if sensing his thoughts, a stray dog dashed in front of Wen Ruohan's horse, spooking it as it chased something across the street. As a cultivator, a horse rearing back wasn't difficult to deal with, nimbly dismounting before anything could really happen, but the fact that the mongrel had appeared before him was enough to make his temper flare.
The poor beast hardly had the chance to yelp before a glinting saber sliced through it. The small child it had cornered was left unsure whether he should be relieved the chase was over, or even more terrified than before.
Wen Ruohan spared the filthy child he'd unintentionally saved from being mauled a brief glance before an idea struck him.
While a dog was out of the question, this brat looked about the same age as his missing ward, and he should make for quite the distraction for Wen Qing to pour herself into with that bleeding heart of hers.