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Chapter Text

The courtyard was washed in moonlight, its pale light making the worn stones glow. Shen Yuan kneeled on one knee with his sister, Qiu Haitang on left and his half-brother, Shen Jiu on the right. In front of them Bai Tianying stood at the center of the courtyard, every inch of her steeled as if she were a general on the eve of war. In her arms she carried a silver pouch.

The setting was perfect, the stakes sky-high. This is a serious moment, Shen Yuan! he tried to tell himself, but his brain refused to stay on-script. Come on – this was straight out of one of a top-shelf RPG! A speech and a new weapon and then off to fight the raid-boss! He was practically waiting for the “quest accepted” jingle to play in the background. His internal monologue was cut off as Bai Tianying spoke.

She turned first to Shen Jiu, pulling from the silver pouch a curved polearm blade far, far larger than the pouch itself. Shen Yuan’s eyes gleamed in unabashed nerd joy. A hammer space? No, A qiankun pouch! How cool!

“For my student, Shen Jiu. The Moon-Striking Halberd, Yueji Ji. You will fight with reach, watch your allies’ backs, and maintain the rhythm. Let the beat dictate the flow of the enemy’s blood.”

Shen Jiu accepted the weapon with both hands, his face set in grim determination. As his grip tightened, the curved blade at the end of the polearm pulsed once with a soft white glow, silver light tracing the blade’s crescent edge before fading into stillness. Acceptance.

Shen Jiu's face was determined and resolute as he looked up from his weapon, Yueji Ji. He bowed his head. "Thank you, Shizun. This disciple will not fail you."

Shen Yuan tried not to gape too openly, his face arranged in what he hoped was dignified stoicism. Too cool, big bro. Too, cool.

Bai Tianying turned next to Haitang. She reached into the pouch and drew out three ceremonial daggers, etched with delicate floral patterns. “For my student, Qiu Haitang. The Song of Three Petals, Sanban Gehua. Yours is the voice that steadies, that lifts, that binds discord into harmony.”

Bai Tianying smiled down at her youngest disciple and said the next sentence in a softer voice laden with meaning, "Keep them close and remember every chorus needs a harmony."

Qiu Haitang bowed low, then looked up with wide, resolute eyes. “Thank you, Shizun. I won’t let you down!” As she took the daggers into her hand, each blade shimmered with a different hue of pink-gold, like petals scattering in the wind before dissolving into starlight. Haitang gasped softly, then clutched the weapons to her chest.

“And lastly – my disciple, Qiu Yuanli.”

That was him! That was his transmigrated name. Shen Yuan straightened like he hadn’t just been holding his breath. Why was he sweating? Surely she wouldn’t pull a “gotcha” right now, right? Like – sorry kid, no weapon for you, better luck in the next playthrough.

Bai Tianying smiled down at him, before reaching into the Qiankun Pouch (capital Q, capital P – respect where it’s due). She withdrew a double-edged straight sword, its surface faintly veined with shifting light. “For you, Yuanli: the Instrument of the Heavenly Choir, Tianyin Zhiqi.”

Shen Yuan's eyes widened, as Bai Tianying extended the blade in both hands, holding it horizontally. What sort of name was that? That was too much for him, too grandiose for sure! That was the sort of weapon you only unlocked after grinding eighty hours in a dungeon. Didn't they know he was a former shut-in LARPing as a cultivator???

Still he drew himself up and bowed his head in a solemn nod, trying to affect a facsimile of Shen Jiu's demeanor.

Bai Tianying’s voice rang clear: “With this blade you will carry your intent as sharply as your voice. Lead your siblings in song, and in battle strike down your enemies with Heaven’s will at your back.”

Feeling only partially like a fraud, Shen Yuan reached for the sword. The moment his hand wrapped the hilt, a strange pressure welled up – like the weapon was staring into him, rifling through his secrets. Judging.

Seconds dragged. Too many seconds. Shen Yuan's heart began to sink as his siblings shifted and Bai Tianying’s brows creased. There was anime-esque acceptance sequence. No glow. Not even a shimmer.

Oh. Oh no. It knows. Maybe it would yeet itself back into the pouch in disgust.

Just as his panic was about to his a crescendo, the pressure eased – and then the blade erupted with soundless radiance, a burst of light that shot skyward like a column of singing glass. Threads of golden light coiled around his arms, weaving into the sword before vanishing.

Shen Yuan swallowed hard, trying to look composed while his insides screamed: Holy crap. I thought it was going to reject me. Don’t cry, don’t cry, you’ll ruin the opening scene.

Bai Tianying moved into her speech seamlessly as if she hadn't been worried for a second.

“Now you must understand your task. The demons have infested this home of yours. They’ve hurt you and forced you into silence with their evil…” Her gaze slid to Shen Jiu, pausing with heavy meaning.

Shen Jiu's jaw clenched his eyes blazing with fury. Even if he hadn't seen the bloodthirsty expression on his face, Shen Yuan could feel the killing intent radiating off him.

"They've killed your parents and hurt your loved ones," Bai Tianying's eyes moved to Qiu Haitang.

Haitang's fingers tightened around her weapon, but her hands trembled slightly. Grief and uncertainty flickered across her face, before she caught herself. She pressed her lips together and forced her expression into something harder, more determined. But the uncertainty didn't quite leave her eyes.​

"And they sought to use you in their profane rituals. And threaten everyone and everything you hold dear." Her gaze settled finally on Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan's first instinct, honed by twenty-plus years of deflecting with humor, was to crack a joke. Something like, 'Hey, no pressure, I'll just be leading the raid against my evil big brother.' But the flippant words died in his throat. The weight of Bai Tianying's stare pinned him in place like a physical thing, and suddenly his mouth was too dry to speak.

"I am sorry it has come to this. But you must see clearly. The one who was once your brother… is no more. Qiu Jianluo is a demon. He and his vile associates must be brought down. Tonight, we end this."

The siblings exchanged glances—Shen Jiu's eyes gleaming with an expectant, ruthless hunger, Haitang's gaze solemn but wavering at the edges, and Shen Yuan hoped despite his nerves that his own looked steadier than it felt. Haitang's nod came last, a half-second slower than the others, as though she were still convincing herself.

Let the raid begin.

The manor stank of smoke and iron. Shattered tiles and scorched stone bore witness to what had just gone down, the air still humming faintly with the last echoes of their voices woven into attack and defense.

Qiu Jianluo lay silent, body pinned beneath one of Qiu Haitang's blades. A part of Shen Yuan was surprised that his sister had managed to do it. He knew despite everything she had the most attachment to Qiu Jianluo both before they knew what sort of things he had been up to and even now that they knew the whole truth. Both he and Shen Jiu had agreed to shield the worst of it from her. They knew how charming Qiu Jianluo could be, even as a demon.

But maybe that only made it worse. Worse for her to see her brothers step in, to be protected yet again from the poison that had lived under their roof all along. So when the moment came, Haitang had stepped forward, jaw set, eyes blazing. She had rebuffed Jianluo’s soft pleading words even when those pleas had turned to harsh threats, and struck true.

The blade had sung as it sank home.

Shen Yuan leaned on his sword, every muscle trembling. He was so, so tired. Despite the years of training under the instructor his brother had hired for him and Haitang – and ha! Look how that had turned out for him – the use of their new weapons was draining.

Definitely a raid boss. And somehow we didn't squad wipe.

Shen Jiu stood a few steps away, face shadowed, blade still dripping. He didn't look relieved. He looked like he wanted to carve the corpses again just to be sure.

Qiu Haitang who had sat down near Qiu Jianluo's corpse was the first to speak. "I… don't want the name anymore."

Both Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu turned to look at their younger sister. "... What name?" Shen Yuan asked, confused.

"Our family name. My name." Haitang's voice shook, but her eyes were clear. "I've thought about it for a long time, back when Father tried to kill Jiu-ge. And Mother didn't do anything to stop him, she encouraged it. And now… A-Luo ended up so much worse. It wasn't just him being a demon. He disgraced the family name long before he turned into a demon didn't he."

It wasn't a question, and neither Shen Jiu nor Shen Yuan wanted to answer. But Haitang correctly interpreted their silence as assent.

“Gods, the things he said to you.” Haitang blinked away angry tears, her gaze flicking toward Shen Jiu. His expression hadn't shifted, still flat and unreadable but the grip he still had on his weapon spoke volumes.

“I…” Haitang’s voice faltered, then steadied. “Father told me once that Jianluo was the one who chose my name. Haitang – because I was their ‘little flower.’” Her mouth twisted. “But that name feels poisoned now. I don’t want to carry it anymore. I’ll find another.”

Shen Yuan’s breath caught. He looked at her and not for the first time, he had to think, this is her, his Mei-Mei.

“Then…” His voice came out softer than he expected. “What do you want to be called?”

Haitang glanced his way, and a faint smile ghosted across her face despite the lingering wetness in her eyes. “I was thinking about Shen Ruolan. Like in the bedtime story you used to tell me.”

Shen Yuan froze. Right, that 'story'. The one he’d carried with him across realities, spilling out in late nights because he couldn’t help himself from talking about his old life. A secret he thought was just his own indulgence – and yet, somehow, she had held onto it.

He was silent for a moment, as he sat there sword in his lap. He turned the thought over. Shen Ruolan. His sister. The name was hers, wasn't it? He had had his doubts for the longest, but he couldn't refuse her the name. He felt it in his core, that Shen Jiu and Shen Ruolan were his siblings from his past life, even if they couldn't remember like he could. There were just too many similarities to ignore.

“I like it,” he said finally, lips quirking into a smile. “Shen Ruolan. And… I think I’ll go by Shen Yuan. Feels more honest that way.”

He paused, before turning to look at Shen Jiu, whose expression was still blank save for the slight widening of his eyes. "I mean," he added sheepishly, "if that's okay with you, Jiu-ge."

Shen Jiu startled as if he wasn't expecting to be addressed. He sniffed, "Do as you wish. I don't own the name."

Shen Yuan and Shen Ruolan exchanged grins. He was glad to see Shen Jiu moving away from the overly deferential and slightly wary tone he used to address the Qiu family members after being brought to Qiu Manor. No matter what lifetime, his snippy brother was and will always be the definition of a tsundere. Don't hide your true self, Jiu-ge!

Maybe now they could be a true family, this way.

Shen Yuan ignored the sudden prickle of cold creeping beneath his skin, spreading through his veins.

The quiet sound of footsteps broke the moment. Bai Tianying had returned, her robes dusted with ash and scorched black in some places, but her bearing was no less steady.

Once Shen Jiu and Shen Ruolan turned their attention away, Shen Yuan tugged his sleeve up just enough to check. No telltale black veins spidering through his arm. Not yet. His secret was safe.

Bai Tianying spoke once she drew near, "Wu Yanzi is dead." She declared. "The last of the demons that have haunted Qiu Manor are gone."

Wu Yanzi had been the most dangerous of the three major demons that had blighted the manor, but fortunately Bai Tianying had told them to leave the man to her, while they dealt with Qiu Jianluo and Ren Mowan, Wu Yanzi's former apprentice.

Bai Tianying studied the three of them closely. "You are the last survivors of the estate," she said at last. "What do you intend to do now?"

Both Shen Yuan and Shen Ruolan were silent at this question, but Shen Jiu had an answer ready immediately.

"I need to know what happened to Yue Qi." His voice was flinty, exposing an instinctive defiance, as if daring someone to tell him he couldn't.

Shen Yuan smiled faintly. No one was going to tell you, you couldn't big bro. I did promise, after all. Maybe he'd mellow out eventually.

Shen Yuan spoke up, "Then we'll go and find him," he said earnestly. "Like I promised, we'll go and visit every sect if we need to. Your Qi-ge is as good as found."

Shen Jiu's eyes softened. He always looked secretly pleased whenever Shen Yuan referred to his missing brother as "his Qi-ge", though he tried to bury it under the stone-faced front. He knew gratitude flickered there, so Shen Yuan didn't press for more. He'd gotten good at reading his brother despite the changes he noted in this new life.

Shen Ruolan spoke up next. “I don’t want us to split up. Even if we join a sect, we stay together.”

Shen Yuan nodded automatically, but his mind ticked through the options. That ruled out most of the great four sects anyway – Tian Yi separated men and women. Zhao Hua was basically monks only, and the bald life did not appeal. Cang Qiong was big, sure, but getting all three of them onto the same peak? The odds were garbage. And Huan Hua… well, that was where Qiu Jianluo had gone and the man had often bragged about the connections he had there. That was reason enough to strike it from the list.

There was also another reason. The small, steadily growing problem on his right shoulder. Shen Yuan shoved the thought aside.

He bit his lip, hesitating. Was this selfish? Maybe I would’ve come to the same conclusion anyway. But it still feels like steering them away… for me. For my own sake. The guilt burned at him, but not enough to stop his next words.

“Honestly?” he said at last, forcing casualness. “I don’t want to sit around here playing noble heir. Exploring the world with you guys sounds better than rebuilding the estate. After we track down Yue Qi… even if the sects won’t take us together, maybe we find another way.”

Silence followed that statement, but both his siblings seemed amenable. Bai Tianying broke the quiet with a faint smile. “Then perhaps there is another way. If you truly mean to turn your back on noblehood… if you want to explore, to remain together… I have an offer for you.”

Her gaze softened, though her voice carried the weight of history. “You’ve already walked part of this path with me – learned to weave your qi into song, to strike with rhythm and resonance. But I’ve told you of what came before. Two hundred years ago, my sisters and I were called upon to reform the barrier between the human and demon realms. We gave our strength, our voices, to seal that rift.”

She let the words linger before continuing. “The three of you are different. Especially gifted. Where my sisters and I were only a choir assembled out of necessity… you are harmony by birth. You have the chance to surpass even what we achieved.”

Shen Ruolan’s eyes widened with wonder, a fragile spark lighting through her exhaustion. “You really think we could?”

Bai Tianying’s smile was faint, but sure. “I would not say it if I did not believe it. With training – and discipline, and patience – you could grow into a force that even the heavens would reckon with.”

Shen Jiu’s face stayed unreadable, but Shen Yuan caught it: the flicker of something speculative. Hungry. Not for glory, but for power that meant never being helpless again.

“And… you would train us?” Shen Yuan asked, careful. He needed her to say it, to give his siblings a reason not to look elsewhere.

“I would guide you,” Bai Tianying corrected. “You would travel, learn, sharpen yourselves in the wider world. Not bound to sect rules, nor chained to a noble house. Free – but not without direction.”

The three exchanged glances. Ruolan’s determination, Jiu’s calculating spark, and Shen Yuan’s nervous excitement braided into a single thread.

Finally, Shen Yuan nodded. “Then… we’ll do it. We’ll learn. Together.”

Shen Jiu inclined his head. Ruolan gave a quiet, resolute smile.

Bai Tianying exhaled slowly, as if some old weight had finally lifted. “Good. Then let us begin.”

Chapter Text

The months after the fall of Qiu Manor blurred into a rhythm of their own.

Days bled into weeks of training under Bai Tianying's relentless eye. Their voices were pushed to their limits. Most days Shen Yuan went to bed with a hoarse voice and woke up to a special blend of tea to strengthen his voice into doing it again. Their qi molded into song until the air itself bent to their harmonies.

They learned more about how to use their weapons, and to fold rhythm into every strike. Shen Jiu’s Yueji Ji could scatter formations with a single resonant sweep, the ringing vibration breaking their cohesion. Ruolan’s three blades struck like overlapping notes in a chord, each cut weaving into the next until they built into something greater than the sum of parts. And Shen Yuan’s Tianyin Zhiqi bound it all together—his blade carrying the unifying melody that let their scattered tones lock into harmony. When he led, the rhythm surged sharper, cleaner; his siblings’ weapons seemed to sing louder and brighter, as if pulled into orbit around his beat.

Practice eventually turned into exercise, and later, field work, as they began their trek across the human realm. Well… Trek wasn't really the right word. Not since, after a few weeks of travelling by foot, Bai Tianying led them up a mountain for their first lesson in flight.

Let him repeat that: In. Flight.

The afternoon sun hung low over the mountain pass, turning the sky into a wash of amber and rose. Bai Tianying stood at the edge of the cliff, her robes billowing in the wind, looking every bit the immortal master from a high-budget donghua opening sequence.

"Today," she said, "you will learn to fly."

Shen Yuan's heart did an absurd little flip. Flying. Actual flying. Not just sword-surfing like some kind of qi-powered jet ski, but real, wind-spirit-aided flight.

"Music," Bai Tianying began, her voice carrying the weight of centuries, "is a vessel that can connect with all beings—humans, the heavens, and the spirits that dwell between. For this lesson, you will use your voices to call out to the wind spirits." She gestured to the open sky. "Each spirit has themes they are more inclined to listen to. It's not just the words—regardless of whether you use vocals, pipa, or guzheng, what you create should be crafted for the spirits you want to connect with."

She paused, looking at each of them in turn. "What themes or associations might connect with the wind spirits? What would call to something that exists in constant motion?"

"Breath," Ruolan offered immediately. "Life."

"Change," Shen Yuan added, thinking of how wind never stayed in one place.

Shen Jiu was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Then, quietly: "Freedom."

Bai Tianying's expression softened, and she gave them a small smile. "Yes. Any and all of those will likely do." She stepped closer to the edge. "You've learned to thread your qi into your music and weave it into the air around you. They will carry you if you ask with sincerity and harmony. Do not command. Do not force. Invite."

Ruolan's eyes were sparkling with excitement, as if the concept of falling hadn't even occurred to her. Shen Jiu, for his part, was looking at the edge with excited determination. Shen Yuan… Don't get him wrong, he was excited. But throwing himself off the cliff and hoping the spirits listened? Well. Let's just say he'd already died once, and he was pretty sure he was out of respawn points.

Bai Tianying stepped back. She spread her arms, holding them loosely aloft before her voice lifted into a soft, wordless lilting melody. The sound seemed to wrap around the air itself as the wind answered. It curled around her feet, playful and eager, and she rose—effortless and serene. With the clear sky behind her she looked like an ink painting come to life, suspended in impossible grace.

Shen Yuan's eyes widened in awe. He was so distracted that it took him a moment to realize another voice had joined Bai Tianying's melody. Ruolan's voice rose first, a light and clear soprano to Bai Tianying's alto, reaching toward the sky with fearless joy. Shen Jiu joined next, his voice deeper and more grounding, steady as stone beneath the lighter notes.

Shen Yuan closed his eyes and steeled himself before finding the melody between them, weaving his voice into the harmony. He felt the wind stir around them, tugging gently at his sleeves, brushing against his skin, curious and playful. He focused on what freedom meant to him: the sound of his sister's playful laughter echoing through their new life. The first time he'd successfully used cultivation to make a leaf hover over his hand, defying gravity with nothing but intention. The rush of realizing he could do this, that he wasn't just pretending at being a cultivator—he was becoming one.

It wasn't until he heard the slight break in Ruolan's singing, interrupted by a startled breathless laugh, that he opened his eyes. His feet had left the ground, he was hovering in place, maybe a few dozen feet. Beside him Shen Ruolan and Shen Jiu were even further up.

Ruolan laughed, spinning mid-air like a ballerina. Shen Jiu wasn't immune to the joy either. His eyes had gone wide, and though he held steadfastly to his note, that didn't stop him from turning this way and that, taking in the expanse of forest and valley that the cliff overlooked. For once, his usual guardedness was nowhere to be seen, making his normally taciturn brother look softer. And younger.

Shen Yuan realized his face hurt because he was grinning so wide his cheeks ached. The wind rushed past as he drifted higher. He was flying. Actually flying. No wires, no special effects, just him and the wind spirits and his siblings' voices weaving together into something miraculous.

Bai Tianying smiled down at them from her place further up, her expression proud. "Eventually, you will be able to maintain the connection with the spirits for longer periods, even after you stop singing. But for now, hold onto your note, and move."

They sang, voices blending into a chorus led by Bai Tianying, accompanied by the occasional rush of air as if the wind spirits—unseen but fully participating—were dancing between them as they soared. The movements weren't graceful, not yet. Shen Yuan nearly collided with Ruolan twice, and Shen Jiu's trajectory occasionally faltered into a controlled descent instead of actual flight. But it was a start.

And it was theirs.

For a moment, Shen Yuan made eye contact with Bai Tianying. She was watching them with an expression he'd only seen once before—the night they'd defeated Qiu Jianluo, when she'd looked at the three of them standing together and smiled like she'd found something she hadn't known she was searching for. Not just students. Something more.

Family, Shen Yuan thought, and the word felt right in a way few things had since his transmigration.

The sun continued its descent, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, and for the first time in a long time, Shen Yuan felt genuinely, completely happy.

With time (and a lot of practice), they'd gotten very good at flying. It opened up their world in ways Shen Yuan hadn't fully anticipated—distances that would have taken days on foot now took hours. Villages that had seemed remote became accessible. And more importantly, it gave them the freedom to move between locations without being tied to roads or established routes.

Their circuit of minor sects—Shen Yuan only called it a Tour in his head—began not too far from the burnt remains of their old house. Bai Tianying was an officially registered cultivator, so even if she'd been officially retired for years, under her tutelage they could take official missions and go on night hunts. Shen Yuan, keeping his promise to Jiu-ge, pushed for them to visit the sects as they traveled, weaving the search for Yue Qi into the spaces between training sessions and cultivation practice.
​
It usually followed the same pattern–-These minor sects, even more so than the major sects, relied on maintaining good relations with their neighbors and trading favors and information with locals. So they leaned on that, presenting themselves as wandering musicians on cultivation training. They accepted a mission or two, sparred with the younger disciples, and then, after a song, a shared meal and some late-night chatter, expressed curiosity about disciples who might have joined in recent years.

It usually wasn't too difficult to get to the answers they were looking for. Sect's generally didn't cart out their registry of disciples to strangers, but charm could ease open closed doors. Ruolan in particular was adept at striking up friendships that led to loose tongues, and even Shen Jiu, asocial as he tended to be, could school his expression into something pleasant if it meant getting what he wanted.

But not always. Case in point, their current target, Cloud River Sect, led by Sect Leader Gong, was definitely turning out to be a bit of a miss.

It was the night after another successful night hunt. Cloud River Sect had invited them to an impromptu festival after they'd helped push back the encroaching Jade-Tusk River Boars, huge, moss-draped tank beasts with translucent jade-colored tusks that glinted poison-green under moonlight. Semi-aquatic and territorial, their seasonal breeding frenzy wrecked not only the sect's grounds but the neighboring villages' wetlands, forests, and crops. Cloud River Sect was responsible for keeping the population in check, but the horde had been steadily growing despite their efforts, throwing the whole ecosystem out of balance.

Watching them barrel out of the mist had been like watching a stampede of high-level mobs: bad news for anything squishy or slow. Shen Yuan had mourned the loss of life a little—if you ignored the destruction left in their wake, they were so cool—but the three of them had put their growing weapon skills to good use alongside Bai Tianying and the sect's disciples.

The real highlight had come afterward. Once the worst of the frenzy had passed, the siblings raised their voices in harmony, performing a song to call back the forest spirit and mend the damage to the land. The spirit had answered, and Shen Yuan had felt the subtle shift in the qi like a rightness settling back into place.

The feast Cloud River Sect threw was half celebration, half stress relief. Lanterns were strung between pavilions, disciples laughed over shared wine, and the smell of roasted meat and sweet cakes filled the air. It was the perfect cover for their usual routine: dispersing among the disciples to ask surreptitious questions about new disciples, all under the guise of friendly curiosity. Most of the sect members seemed to think they were considering joining and were enthusiastic about sharing information.

Shen Yuan had been in the middle of a conversation with a group of outer disciples, jovial young cultivators eager to boast about their sect's recent improvements—when he realized Shen Jiu was no longer nearby.

He'd been there just moments ago, hadn't he? Lingering at the edge of their circle with his usual reserved watchfulness, nursing a cup of tea he probably hadn't touched.

Shen Yuan scanned the courtyard. No sign of him.

A prickle of unease crawled up his spine. Shen Jiu didn't just wander off. Not at unfamiliar sects, and definitely not without telling someone. That was one of the unspoken rules they'd developed over the past months. Stay visible and stay together, especially when they were guests somewhere new.

He excused himself from the conversation and went looking for Ruolan. He found her near one of the food tables in the middle of an animated conversation—complimenting a disciple's attack combo with genuine enthusiasm. He caught her eye while she was mid-laugh with a cluster of female disciples who were clearly charmed by her warmth. The smile on her face dimmed the moment she noticed the tension in his expression. Within seconds she'd excused herself from the group and approached him.

"Lan-mei," he said quietly. "Have you seen Jiu-ge?"

Ruolan's face showed a growing amount of alarm. Her hand drifted to the pouch holding her daggers. "Not for a while. I thought he was with you?"

"He was. Now he's not." Shen Yuan kept his voice calm, but he could see Ruolan registering the concern beneath it.

"He wouldn't just leave," Ruolan said, worry creeping into her voice. "Not without saying something."

"I know. Let's stick together and find him." Standard horror movie tactics. Never split the party, Shen Yuan thought grimly.

They moved through the sect grounds with purpose, keeping their expressions neutral even as Shen Yuan's instincts screamed that something was wrong. Shen Jiu could handle himself. Six months of constant training as they moved around the region had demonstrated that. But after everything his brother had been through, being cornered or isolated by strangers...

They passed a series of administrative buildings, then paused. Voices drifted from one of the side halls. One voice was unfamiliar. The other...

Shen Jiu.

Shen Yuan quietly moved closer, signaling Ruolan to do the same. His hand unconsciously drifted to his sword. The door was slightly ajar.

"—don't know anything about Shining Peak Sect's activities," Shen Jiu was saying, his voice tight with controlled frustration. "I've already told you that."

"Have you?" That was Sect Leader Gong. His tone was mild, almost conversational, but there was an edge underneath. "Forgive me, but your answers have been... evasive. For someone who claims ignorance, you seem remarkably defensive."

"I'm not being defensive. You're asking questions I can't answer because I don't have the information you want."

Shining Peak Sect? What was the man talking about? Ruolan stepped forward to barge into the room but paused, albeit reluctantly, when Shen Yuan signaled for her to wait.

"Let's try a different approach," Gong said. "You three arrived here claiming to be wandering cultivators in training. Yet you've been asking very specific questions about our newer disciples—ages, backgrounds, where they came from."

"We're curious about sect life," Shen Jiu said, his tone clipped. "Is that a crime?"

"Or," Gong interrupted smoothly, "you're gathering intelligence. Shining Peak has been very interested in our recruitment practices. In which families we draw from, which regions. The kind of information that would be useful for... targeted poaching."

"That's not—" Shen Jiu's voice was strained now, the careful control starting to crack. "We have nothing to do with Shining Peak. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

It sounded like Sect Leader Gong had moved to block the exit. "No? So it's just a coincidence that you appear as our conflict with them reached a tipping point? Why offer to help with the spirit beasts—conveniently earning our trust—and then immediately begin interrogating our disciples?"

"We weren't interrogating anyone! We were just—"

"Forgive me, but when unknown cultivators appear at my sect asking detailed questions about our disciples—questions that suggest they're searching for someone specific—I have to wonder about motivations." Gong's voice hardened. "You claim you're from a minor noble family, yet you come without a noble's seal. You say you were brought into the family later, but won't explain what that means—"

"My circumstances before joining the family aren't relevant to—"

"Aren't they?" Gong's tone turned cutting. "A boy from nowhere, suddenly part of a 'noble family,' traveling without proper credentials, asking invasive questions? That sounds like exactly the kind of spy Shining Peak would send. Someone expendable. Someone with nothing to lose if they're caught."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Shen Yuan had heard enough. He exchanged a look with Ruolan whose face was now pale with fury, and pushed the door open.

"Gong-zhangmen," Shen Yuan said, his voice pleasant but carrying an unmistakable edge. "And Jiu-ge. There you are. We've been looking for you."

Both men turned. Sect Leader Gong's expression flickered with surprise before smoothing into politeness. Shen Jiu looked—not quite relieved, but something close. The rigid tension in his shoulders eased fractionally as Shen Yuan positioned himself slightly between the two. Ruolan, for her part, took a position on Shen Jiu's other side, her hand resting pointedly on her weapon pouch.

"Shen-gongzi," Gong said, recovering smoothly. "I was just having a conversation with your brother. He's been very... helpful."

"I'm sure," Shen Yuan said, the protective edge still in his voice though he kept his expression placid. "Though I'm curious why you felt the need to have this conversation privately. If you had questions for us, we're happy to answer them together."

Gong's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I thought a more... intimate setting might encourage honesty. Your brother seemed reluctant to speak freely in front of an audience."

Translation: I deliberately isolated the one who seemed most vulnerable to pressure.

Shen Yuan kept his expression neutral, but something cold settled in his chest. He'd clocked the tactic immediately—separate the group, target the one who seems least confident, apply pressure until they break or reveal something useful. Classic interrogation strategy.

Part of what bothered him was the fact that even to outsiders, they could clock Shen Jiu as the odd one out. The three of them looked like siblings—similar enough features that literally no one bothered to question it—but Shen Jiu, during his first years with the family, had been the unwanted bastard of Qiu Manor. Sect Leader Gong somehow sensing that vulnerability and using it to isolate his brother had a fury rising in him that he carefully kept from his face.

And it had almost worked. Shen Jiu was distressed—not obviously, but Shen Yuan could see it in the way his brother's hands were clenched, the slight raggedness to his breathing. Being cornered by an authority figure, questioned about his legitimacy, his background, his worth...

​You absolute bastard, Shen Yuan thought. Out loud, he said: "Jiu-ge has nothing to hide. None of us do. But if you're concerned about Shining Peak, perhaps we should have this conversation with all of us present. Transparency goes both ways, doesn't it?"

Gong studied him for a moment, reassessing. "You misunderstand. I'm simply trying to protect my sect—"

"By accusing guests who helped you?" Ruolan's voice was soft but sharp as her blades. "That's an interesting way to show gratitude, Gong-hangmen."

A tense silence fell.

Finally, Gong inclined his head. "Perhaps I have been... overzealous in my concerns. These are difficult times for Cloud River Sect."

"Understandable," Shen Yuan said, though his tone made it clear he didn't find it understandable at all. "Now—you mentioned something about Shining Peak and missing disciples. Perhaps you could tell us more about that. We're heading that direction next, and we'd like to know what we're walking into."

He was giving Gong an out—a way to redirect the conversation toward something productive. And, more importantly, he was making it clear that they weren't going to be pushed around.

Sect Leader Gong seemed to recognize this. After a pause, he sighed. "Very well. Let's speak plainly."

Sect Leader Gong's expression hardened, suspicion crystallizing into accusation. "Let me be direct. I believe you're cultivators sent from Shining Peak Sect—working to earn the trust and affection of my disciples after I rebuffed their latest... offer." He leaned back, fingers steepled. "Sending a group of young, talented cultivators out of the blue, strong but with no apparent backing, no official credentials? Either your sect is very bold, or you take me for a fool."

Well, option two is looking increasingly likely, Shen Yuan thought, but kept his expression neutral.

He made a quick decision. "Gong-zhangmen," Shen Yuan said, keeping his voice even and respectful but firm. "We are both traveling musicians and cultivators. Our aim is to travel, share what we've learned, and learn from others in turn. We're disciples of Bai Tianying—of the Sunlight Sisters."

He dropped the name deliberately. Bai Tianying alone was famous in a niche sort of way, but she hadn't been an active cultivator in over a hundred years. The Sunlight Sisters, though—the three sisters who'd re-formed the barrier between realms two centuries ago—that was the kind of legend even mortals knew.

Sect Leader Gong's face twitched minutely, recognition flickering across his features. But the suspicion didn't fade entirely.

"The Sunlight Sisters," Gong repeated slowly, as if testing the words. "An impressive claim. And yet, even if true, it doesn't explain your very particular interest in our new disciples. Odd timing, wouldn't you say, considering Shining Peak has been trying to poach from our ranks for several months now?"

Shen Yuan resisted the urge to sigh. How did we stumble into a territorial dispute between the last two sects before leaving the capital region? Bad luck? Side quest RNG?

Beside him, he could almost feel Shen Jiu tensing—not with fear anymore, but with the coiled readiness of someone preparing to lash out. Having his siblings there had shifted the dynamic; Shen Jiu was no longer cornered and vulnerable, but backed up and dangerous. Shen Yuan could practically hear the cutting remark forming in his brother's mind.

Better to take the diplomatic approach first, even if Sect Leader Gong's tactics had really, really pissed him off.

Shen Yuan leaned forward slightly, refocusing the attention on himself, and spoke before his brother could. "There's no hidden agenda, Gong-Zhangmen."

He hesitated. Lying would be easier. A cover story, some deflection. But he thought about Bai Tianying's lessons on leadership, and made a different choice. Vulnerability, carefully measured.

"Throughout our travels we've also been searching for a lost family member," Shen Yuan said quietly. "Our brother left home around three years ago. We've been looking for him, but his situation was… complicated. He was stripped of his name. We don't know what name he might be using now, but we know he was looking to join a cultivation sect."

The room went quiet.

Shen Jiu stiffened, shooting Shen Yuan a sharp, unreadable look. But he didn't contradict him. That was as close to approval as Shen Yuan was going to get.

Sect Leader Gong studied them for a long moment, the calculation in his eyes shifting into something closer to consideration. Finally, he said, "Describe him."

Shen Yuan nodded once, then glanced at Shen Jiu.

Shen Jiu's voice, when he spoke, was back to his careful, neutral tone. "Tanned skin. Black hair, cut just past his shoulders. Thick brows." His finger traced a line along his own chin. "A scar here. Tall for his age, he'd be at least my height back then, maybe taller. He was around fifteen when he left. And..." He paused, then added with quiet precision, "Eyes the color of dark amber. Almost brown in low light, but golden when the sun hits them."

What was this romance novel-esque description, Jiu-ge??

Still. The level of detail wasn't lost on Shen Yuan. Nor was the softening of Shen Jiu's tone when describing Yue Qi, even in their present circumstances. Perhaps it wasn't lost on Sect Leader Gong, whose frown lessened upon hearing the description.

Finally the man gave a short, decisive shake of his head. "Three years ago, we weren't taking in disciples that old. The drought left us short on resources; the beast attacks made things worse. Shining Peak compounded the injury by luring away several of our prospects." He paused, then added more gently, "There's no boy by that description here. I'm sorry."

Shen Yuan felt the disappointment settle heavy in his chest, but he kept his expression composed. Another sect crossed off the list. Shen Jiu would want to poke around more just to be sure, but this was looking like another dead end.

Sect Leader Gong's posture relaxed slightly, and he inclined his head. "I apologize for the... hasty conclusions. These are difficult times for Cloud River Sect. But if you're truly Bai Tianying's disciples, then you have my respect." He hesitated, then offered, "If you wish to stay, we would welcome you as disciples. Your talents would be an asset."

Shen Jiu went rigid again. Less anger, but something closer to alarm. As if there was a chance Shen Yuan would accept the offer. Especially after the sect leader's antics.

"We appreciate the offer," Shen Yuan said smoothly, not looking at Shen Jiu but acutely aware of him. "But we can't commit to anything until we finish our search. Family comes first."

"Of course," Gong said, though he looked faintly disappointed. Then his expression turned more serious. "If you're planning to head toward Shining Peak next, there's something you should know."

Sect Leader Gong sighed, looking older suddenly. "To be fully honest, I'm not certain of the full picture. Times have been difficult for Cloud River Sect. We've lost disciples—not just to spirit beasts and demons, but to some choosing to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Shining Peak hasn't helped matters, refusing to offer aid while simultaneously offering our disciples places in their sect." His mouth twisted bitterly. "A few have taken them up on it. We've never heard from them again."

Shen Yuan's eyebrows rose. Okay, this is definitely starting to sound like a new quest chain.

"Traversing through Whispering Glade Forest between Cloud River and Shining Peak is dangerous," Gong continued, "but some of these disciples were well-equipped and experienced. They should have been able to handle it. And it's not just disciples—travelers and villagers near the forest border have been disappearing as well. When we sent a missive to Shining Peak requesting aid, we were rebuffed."

Shen Yuan tilted his head thoughtfully. Shining Peak Sect was the last unvisited sect in the central capital region that bordered Qiu Manor's former territory. After that, they'd have to pick a direction and expand their search into unknown territory.

"That's... concerning," Shen Yuan said carefully. "We'll keep that in mind when we travel through. Thank you for the warning, Gong-zhangmen."

The sect leader nodded. "Safe travels. And... I hope you find your brother."

They left the receiving room in silence, making their way back through the sect's corridors toward their guest quarters. The festival was still ongoing in the distance—laughter and music drifting on the night air—but the three of them walked apart from it, lost in their own thoughts.

Once they were far enough from prying eyes, Ruolan moved closer to Shen Jiu, deliberately pressing against his side—not quite a hug, but close.

"Jiu-ge," she said softly, looking up at him with worried eyes. "Are you okay?"

Shen Jiu's rigid posture softened fractionally. His hand came up briefly to rest on her shoulder. "I'm fine, Lan-mei."

It was his standard answer, but his voice was gentler than usual. ​

Shen Yuan hung back, giving them space. He'd learned through trial and error that he had to take a different approach to interacting with Shen Jiu.

His memories of his past life were actually something of a hindrance when it came to his brother in this world. In their past life, his brother would tolerate some physical contact—high fives, fist bumps, and every now and then, the rare bro-hug. But that was before.

Now, when Shen Yuan got too close, or even when he moved too quickly or reached out without warning, Shen Jiu didn't flinch. He never flinched. Instead he went very still and very quiet, every muscle tensing as he tracked Shen Yuan's every movement with hyper-vigilant focus. Like he was calculating threat levels, measuring distances, preparing for violence that Shen Yuan would never deliver but that his body expected anyway.

​It used to make Shen Yuan feel instinctively guilty, defensive even.

He'd reasoned at first that it was just because Shen Jiu had grown up rough before being taken into Qiu Manor. A life on the streets and then in slavery would make anyone wary, but now that he was part of the family, surely they'd eventually get to the same sort of brotherly relationship they'd had in another life. The easy camaraderie, the arguments that were more sport than conflict, the casual companionship of siblings who genuinely liked each other.

But then Shen Jiu's defensive responses had gotten worse in Qiu Manor, not better. The watchfulness became sharper. The stillness more absolute. And that silent, barely-there flinch when certain tones of voice were used...

It had taken Shen Yuan far too long to realize the culprit. Sure his parents didn't help in making Shen Jiu feel welcome, and they had certainly played their own part in it. But the worst of it was undoubtedly from Jianluo who seemed to almost indulge in systematically destroying any sense of safety his brother might have built.

So even if the association wasn't Shen Yuan's fault—even if he'd never done anything—the damage was already there. Male authority figures. Male family members. Men who got too close, who touched without permission, who used soft words laced with hidden meanings.

The memory of teaching Shen Jiu to read still stung, months later.

In his past life, Shen Yuan had found in his brother a willing, albeit argumentative, audience for even his lengthier fiction and game rants. Past-life Shen Jiu loved to argue almost as much as Shen Yuan did, so he gave as good as he got. Debates about plot holes, character motivations, optimal build strategies, power scaling—it was how they bonded. The rhythm of the back-and-forth, challenging each other's logic, of finding joy in being heard, understood and tested.

So when Shen Jiu had started getting better at reading in this life, Shen Yuan had been genuinely excited. They didn't have video games anymore but finally, they could share books! He could introduce his brother to some of the classics he'd found, get his take on things, rebuild that connection through stories like they used to.

He'd tried it one afternoon in the library. Shen Jiu had been practicing characters, and Shen Yuan had sat down nearby, and after getting to a particularly egregious chapter in the novel he was reading, he'd started up an enthusiastic monologue about how appalling he found the protagonist's choices and the blatant plot holes you could drive a truck through.

At his first exclamation Shen Jiu had frozen, like a deer in headlights.

Not the attentive stillness of someone listening, but of someone who'd just realized they were in danger. His eyes had gone distant and glassy, his breathing shallow, hands clenched white-knuckled around the brush he'd been holding.

Shen Yuan had stopped talking immediately, but the damage was done. Shen Jiu had quietly excused himself and disappeared for the rest of the day.

Shen Yuan had become very, very careful about how he interacted with Shen Jiu after that. The easy, comforting touches and smiles his sister could do, was strictly off limits.

No sudden movements. No extended eye contact. No enthusiastic hand gestures, even when he was excited about something. He learned to talk at things instead of at Shen Jiu directly—addressing the room, the sky, the scenery—so his brother could listen without feeling targeted. He learned that practical questions got better responses than emotional ones. That offering choices was better than offering comfort.

It wasn't the relationship they'd had before. It might never be.

But it was the relationship they had now, and Shen Yuan was learning to meet his brother where he was instead of where he wished he could be.

He waited until Ruolan stepped back, giving her brother a final reassuring pat on the arm. Then Shen Yuan spoke up, keeping his voice level and practical, eyes focused on their surroundings.

"That was deliberate," he said. "Gong isolating you like that. We should have a signal or something—if we get separated again, a way to let each other know if something's wrong."

Shen Jiu was quiet for a moment, considering. "A musical phrase. Something we can hum or whistle that wouldn't seem out of place."

"Smart," Shen Yuan said, nodding. "What about that opening from the wind spirit song? The one Shizun used for the flying lesson. Three notes, ascending."

"That works," Shen Jiu agreed. Then, after a pause: "If one of us doesn't respond within a reasonable time..."

"We come looking. No questions asked." Shen Yuan glanced at Ruolan, who was walking beside them, her hand resting on her weapon pouch. "Lan-mei, you good with that?"

"Obviously," she said, rolling her eyes with a small smile. "Though I think next time we should just stick together. That way no one can pull that kind of trick again."

Shen Yuan nodded agreeably. They walked in silence for a few more steps, the festival sounds fading behind them as they headed toward their guest quarters.

Then Shen Jiu's hand briefly caught on his sleeve.

A moment later, Shen Yuan felt the slight press of a shoulder against his—solid, deliberate, lasting for maybe two steps before pulling away.

Shen Yuan probably should have just played it off. Should have kept walking like nothing happened, because that's what Shen Jiu would prefer. But it was so completely out of the norm for his brother, who studiously avoided all physical contact with him, that he stopped walking entirely and turned to look at Shen Jiu in surprise.

Shen Jiu was staring resolutely ahead, jaw tight, posture rigid. But his ears had gone slightly red.

"Jiu-ge?" Shen Yuan asked carefully.

"Keep walking," Shen Jiu muttered, not looking at him.

Shen Yuan blinked. Then a warmth bloomed in his chest that had nothing to do with cultivation. Oh. That had been... that had been deliberate. Intentional. Shen Jiu had been reaching out.

What had he even done to earn that?

Still, a grin made its way across his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

They kept walking, moving to catch up with Ruolan. And if Shen Yuan felt inexplicably lighter for the rest of the evening, well. That was his business.

The next morning brought a practice combat session with Bai Tianying before they departed Cloud River Sect's territory. Three against one, she'd promised, to test their coordination under real pressure. It would be grueling, but after last night, Shen Yuan found he was actually looking forward to it.

The clearing rang with the sound of clashing steel and harmonized voices. Bai Tianying stood at the center, unmoved, her expression serene as three blades came at her from different angles.

Shen Yuan led the vanguard with Shen Jiu, their weapons singing in tandem – his straight blade weaving light, sharp strikes while Jiu-ge's halberd swept wide arcs meant to control space and tempo. Ruolan hung back, voice lifting in a supporting melody that sharpened their movements. Whenever an opportunity presented itself, one of her daggers spun through the air to strike, before snapping back to her hand.

"Faster," Bai Tianying said, deflecting all three attacks with a single sweep of her sleeve. "Your rhythm is predictable."

Shen Jiu adjusted instantly, his halberd's crescent blade ringing out a lower, syncopated beat. Shen Yuan matched it, shifting his footwork, but the coordination was still a half-step off. Ruolan's voice wavered as she tried to adapt, and one of her daggers clattered to the ground.

Damn it. Combo broken. Team wipe imminent.

Bai Tianying's hand moved—a flick of her wrist—and all three siblings were sent stumbling backward, qi disrupted, breath ragged.

"You rely too much on established patterns," she said. "In true battle, the enemy will not wait for you to find your harmony. You must create it, even in chaos."

Shen Yuan groaned from his position on the ground, panting. "Easy for you to say. You've had two hundred years of practice."

Bai Tianying's lips quirked. "And you have each other. Use that advantage. Again."

They picked themselves up, breathing hard. As they reset their positions, Ruolan stepped forward instead of falling back to her usual mid-range position.

"Let me take vanguard this time," she said, daggers already in hand.

Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu exchanged a look.

"Lan-mei, your weapon set is better suited for—" Shen Yuan started.

"For support, I know," Ruolan interrupted, her smile bright but her eyes determined. "But I need to be able to handle close combat too. What if you two get separated from me? What if I'm the one who gets cornered?"

She had a point. Shen Yuan could see Shen Jiu's jaw working, probably running through the same scenarios.

"Fine," Shen Jiu said finally. "But if you get overwhelmed, fall back. Don't be stubborn."

"Says you," Ruolan shot back, but she was grinning now.

This round went differently. Ruolan pushed forward aggressively, her daggers flashing in tight, controlled arcs. She was fast—faster than either of her brothers in close quarters—and her smaller frame let her slip inside Bai Tianying's reach in ways they couldn't.

But Bai Tianying still had a few centuries of experience on her. She adapted instantly, her movements becoming tighter, more economical. Within seconds, Ruolan was being driven back, struggling to maintain her defense.

Shen Yuan moved to support, but Bai Tianying had anticipated that. A sweep of her sleeve sent a pulse of qi that forced him to parry instead of advance. Shen Jiu tried to flank, but found himself similarly stymied.

Ruolan gritted her teeth, activating one of her prepared talismans. Ice burst from the point of impact, giving her enough space to disengage and reposition—but not before taking a glancing hit that left her favoring her left side.

"See the problem?" Bai Tianying asked, not unkindly. She'd stopped pressing the attack. "Your brothers couldn't support you effectively because they were trying to protect you rather than work with you. And you, Shen Ruolan, pushed forward without considering how your formation would adjust."

Ruolan's jaw clenched, but she nodded.

"You're not weak," Bai Tianying continued. "Your close combat skills are excellent. But in a coordinated fight, optimal positioning isn't about pride—it's about maximizing your collective effectiveness." She gestured to all three of them. "Again. This time, Ruolan, I want you to take vanguard for the opening exchange, then flow into support when your brothers move up. Don't retreat—transition. Your daggers can still strike from mid-range, and your talismans give you options they don't have."

​They tried again. This time, Ruolan led with an aggressive opener—her daggers striking high and low in rapid succession, forcing Bai Tianying to commit to a defense. The moment she did, Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu surged forward on either side. Ruolan didn't fall back—she shifted, her movements flowing into a supporting rhythm as she activated talismans and sent daggers arcing over her brothers' shoulders to strike from unexpected angles.
​
It was smoother. Not perfect, they still got scattered when Bai Tianying countered, but better.

By the third round, they managed to push Bai Tianying back two steps before she ended it with a pulse of qi that sent them sprawling.

"Better," she said, offering a hand to Ruolan. "You are learning. But learning and knowing are different things." She pulled Ruolan to her feet, then looked at all three of them. "You each have strengths. The key is learning to let those strengths complement each other rather than compete. Get some rest. Tomorrow we will travel again."

As they walked back to their quarters, Ruolan was quiet, absently rubbing her side where she'd taken the hit.

Shen Yuan frowned and glanced toward Shen Jiu to find him already looking back with a frown that was a bit more pronounced than usual. Okay, so they were thinking the same thing then.

Usually it was him or Jiu-ge who took a loss to heart. Jiu-ge just hated losing out of some sort of personal principle and Shen Yuan hated when one of the strats he came up with didn't work out when put to the test.

But Ruolan? Ruolan was usually the one bouncing back immediately with a bright "We'll get 'em next time! Dattebayo!" energy that could put shonen protagonists to shame. She was their emotional reset button, the one who kept morale up when things went sideways.

So seeing her so subdued after a loss, shoulders slightly hunched, smile nowhere in sight...

His big brother senses were tingling. Something's definitely wrong.

Shen Yuan broke the silence. "You did well, Lan-mei."

"I got hit because I was too aggressive. I couldn't keep up," she said, frustration creeping into her voice despite the way she tried to keep it light.

"You also created the opening that let us coordinate better in the third round," Shen Jiu pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact. "That mattered."

Ruolan looked up at him, surprise flickering across her face. Shen Jiu didn't give unprompted compliments often. Or ever, really. The fact that he'd spoken up at all was significant.

"Jiu-ge's right," Shen Yuan added, moving slightly closer. "You're not just support. You're... you're the one who makes the rest of us work." He smiled, remembering Bai Tianying's words from what felt like a lifetime ago. "Remember what Shizun said? Every chorus needs harmony."

Ruolan's expression softened, her smile returning—quieter this time, but more genuine. "Thanks, ge."

For the rest of the day, the three of them cleaned up and made their way to say their final goodbyes to Cloud River Sect. The disciples were effusive in their farewells, and Sect Leader Gong had apparently transformed into a "superfan" overnight after learning who Bai Tianying was, fawning over her with the kind of enthusiasm that made the siblings exchange wry glances behind his back.

Bai Tianying, for her part, accepted his belated respect with cool politeness that barely masked her disapproval. Shen Yuan suspected she was still pretty pissed from when they'd told her about the interrogation incident with the Sect Leader. Good. Neither had he.

They set off toward Whispering Glade Forest, the dense woodland that separated Cloud River's territory from Shining Peak Sect. The path was well-traveled near the sect, but would grow wilder as they ventured deeper.

​Two days later, they put their new coordination to the test.

They'd taken off into the air, singing to the wind spirits in what was becoming second nature—an ongoing dialogue between voice and air, rhythm and spirit. But now, the playful breeze that had carried them for the past hour shifted into something heavy, tinged with a sense of wrongness that made Shen Yuan's skin crawl.

His hand settled over Tianyin Zhiqi's hilt before he even registered the movement.

Bai Tianying stopped abruptly, suspended mid-air, her gaze fixed on the treeline ahead. "There's a demonic presence nearby," she said, voice calm and matter-of-fact. "This one is older than the ones you faced at Qiu Manor. Though not nearly as old or as powerful as Wu Yanzi."

She turned to them, expression unreadable. "This will be your test. I will not intervene unless your lives are in danger. Show me what you have learned."

Before anyone could protest—or even process—the demon emerged from the shadows.

Demonic beasts, Shen Yuan thought, his mind cataloging the creature with grim efficiency. The transformation starts when someone falls to despair. Grief, rage, guilt, whatever darkness they can't escape. In that moment of total surrender, they give up control. Their soul gets claimed by Gui Mo, and they become a demon. But it doesn't stop there. Demons who keep feeding on negative emotions, who keep taking in more corruption without any anchor to their humanity... they devolve. Bit by bit, they lose everything—memories, reason, even their human form. What's left is this: pure instinct wrapped in a shell of malice and hunger. Taking them out isn't murder. It's mercy.

The creature that emerged from the shadows proved his point. It was massive—easily twice the height of a man—its body a nightmarish amalgamation of predator and rot. Limbs bent at wrong angles, skin mottled gray-black like diseased bark, and eyes that glowed a sickly yellow with absolutely nothing behind them. No thought. No recognition. Just base instinct and corruption made manifest. When it opened its mouth, too many teeth gleamed in rows like a shark's, and the stench of decay rolled off it in waves.

First real field test after all that training, Shen Yuan thought, drawing Tianyin Zhiqi. Post-level grind, pre-boss fight. Standard encounter progression. We've got this.

The demon beast lunged.
​
Like in their training, they moved into position for a strong single combatant. Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu surged forward in unison, taking the vanguard. Their blades met the demon's claws in a violent clash of steel and bone, sparks flying into the darkening air. The impact reverberated up Shen Yuan's arms, and he gritted his teeth, bracing against the creature's raw strength.

Ruolan took a more strategic position, scattering paper talismans in a wide arc around the battlefield. Each one fluttered to the ground like falling petals, glowing faintly with latent qi. She could activate them at any time by focusing and hitting the right note—a trick that had taken her months to perfect.

Shen Yuan found himself humming as they fell into rhythm, the melody rising unbidden from somewhere deep in his memory. The tune was light, almost playful—something from his old life, a pop song about fighting and kicking ass together. The words slipped out before he could stop them:

Better come right, better luck tryin', gettin' to our level¹

His blade swept in a clean arc, driving the demon back a step. Golden light traced the edge of Tianyin Zhiqi, and the demon shrieked, recoiling from the resonance.

Shen Jiu picked up the thread without missing a beat, his halberd spinning in a low, sweeping strike that forced the demon to leap backward. His voice joined the song, deeper and steadier:

'Cause you might die, never the time, tryna start a battle

The crescent blade of Yueji Ji rang out like a bell, and the sound rippled through the air, disrupting the demon's movements. It stumbled, claws scraping against stone as it tried to regain balance.

Ruolan's turn. She blew a sharp note on her pan flute, and three of the scattered talismans flared to life. Her daggers shot out from her hands, each one trailing a glowing tether of qi. The blades struck true, embedding themselves in the demon's hide, and the talismans activated with a burst of crackling ice. Frost spread across the creature's body, locking its limbs in place.

Her voice soared, bright and unwavering:

Bleeding isn't in my blood, Different from the inside out
Beating you is what we do, do, do, yeah

The demon roared, thrashing against the frost, and shattered free with a violent explosion of demonic qi. Shards of ice flew in every direction, and Shen Yuan barely managed to dodge a jagged piece that whistled past his ear.

They shifted seamlessly into their combo finisher—the "divine smite" they'd practiced a dozen times. All three voices rose together, weaving into a unified chorus:

Knocking you out like a lullaby
Hear that sound ringing in your mind
Better sit down for the show
'Cause we're gonna show you how it's done, done, done

Golden light gathered around their weapons, resonating with the harmony of their voices. The air shimmered, and the qi condensed into something radiant and devastating. This was it. The finishing blow.

Hear our voice unwavering
'Til our song defeats the night
Together we will never fall
'Til the dark meets light

But as the words left Shen Yuan's lips—together we will never fall, what a lie—something inside him twisted. A cold spike of wrongness lanced through his chest, and for a heartbeat the world tilted. The demonic taint in his blood stirred, responding to the surge of qi, threatening to disrupt the resonance from within.

No. Not now. Not here.

He gritted his teeth and pushed through it, pouring every ounce of will into maintaining the harmony. His voice didn't falter, at least not outwardly, but the effort left him feeling hollow, like something vital had been scraped away.

The golden light blazed brighter, and all three weapons struck as one.

Shen Yuan's blade plunged through the demon's skull with a final, resonant note. The creature let out one gurgling shriek before its body went rigid, then crumbled to ash that scattered on the wind like burned paper.

Silence fell.

Shen Yuan stood there, chest heaving, Tianyin Zhiqi still clutched in his trembling hand. His siblings were breathing hard too, faces flushed with exertion but triumphant. They hadn't noticed. Good.

Bai Tianying descended slowly, her expression calm and approving as she surveyed the scene. "Well done," she said, her voice carrying genuine praise. "Your coordination has improved significantly. You maintained the resonance even under pressure, and your execution was clean. This is progress."

Ruolan beamed, still catching her breath. Shen Jiu's expression remained stoic, but there was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

But when Bai Tianying's gaze swept over them, her eyes lingered on Shen Yuan. Just for a moment—a fraction of a second longer than the others—and something sharp and assessing flickered in her expression.

Shen Yuan's stomach dropped. His hand twitched toward his sleeve, fingers itching to check his skin for any telltale signs. But he forced himself to stay still, to keep his expression neutral, even as his heart hammered against his ribs.

Did she notice? Does she know?

"Rest," Bai Tianying said, her tone light but her eyes still on him. "We'll continue on to Shining Peak tomorrow. You've earned a proper meal and a night's sleep."

She turned away, and Shen Yuan released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

That evening, after the celebratory meal—humble but satisfying, with Ruolan teasing Shen Jiu about his particularly vicious strike and Shen Jiu deflecting with his usual terseness—Shen Yuan excused himself early. He claimed exhaustion, which wasn't entirely a lie.

Once alone in the small room they'd rented at the inn, he locked the door and tugged his outer robe off with shaking hands. His fingers fumbled at the ties of his inner shirt, pulling the fabric aside to expose his right shoulder.

The inky patch had grown.

What had been a small, coin-sized mark just days ago now spread like spilled ink across his shoulder blade, dark tendrils creeping toward his collarbone. The edges were blurred, almost alive, and when he touched it, the skin felt cold—unnaturally so.

Shen Yuan's breath came short and fast as he stared at his reflection in the small bronze mirror propped on the table. What's triggering it? The fight? Using too much qi? Or just... time?

Damn you, Qiu Jianluo. Damn you, Wu Yanzi.

He pulled his shirt back into place, hands still trembling. The cold had settled deeper now, a constant presence beneath his skin. He wondered, distantly, how long he had before it consumed him entirely. Before he became something his siblings would have to hunt down and destroy.​

I'll find a way, he told himself, jaw set. I have to. For them.

But the doubt lingered, cold and insidious, as he lay down and tried—unsuccessfully—to sleep.

With the matter of the demon in Whispering Glade Forest put to rest, the Shens completed their travel to Shining Peak Sect, the last unvisited sect in the central region. When they finally arrived, Shen Yuan was relieved to see that Shining Peak Sect was everything Cloud River wasn't: prosperous, bustling, confident in its place among the region's powers. Sect Leader Yan, unlike Sect Leader Gong, seemed to recognize who Bai Tianying was and practically rolled out the red carpet for shizun, treating them to a welcoming feast and luxurious guest quarters.

It could not be understated how much Shen Yuan had missed a quality bed. Actual pillows. Sheets with a thread count that didn't feel like sandpaper. He'd tried not to think about it during their travels—sleeping on bedrolls and inn mattresses that were probably older than he was—but the moment he sank into the guest quarters' bed, he nearly wept with joy. This is what cultivation should provide. Immortality AND proper bedding.

Everything was so... clean. And abundant. The sect grounds were immaculate, the disciples well-fed and well-equipped, and notably strong too. Most were at Foundation Establishment or higher. Shen Yuan was willing to chalk up the missing persons Sect Leader Gong had mentioned as being caused by the demonic presence in Whispering Glade Forest. There really didn't seem to be anything sinister going on here. Perhaps Gong's former disciples really had just had an unfortunate run-in with that demon. Mystery solved, case closed.

Then, three days in, Shen Jiu said something that changed everything.

They were passing through one of the outer courtyards, watching junior disciples run through sword forms. The movements were sharp, precise, well-drilled. Impressive, even.

Shen Jiu stopped walking. His eyes tracked the disciples with that particular intensity he got when something didn't add up.

"The outer disciples don't rest," he said quietly.

Shen Yuan blinked. "What?"

"Watch them." Shen Jiu's gaze didn't waver. "They train from dawn until midday meal. Then they're back again until evening. And when they're not training, they're working. Maintaining the grounds, running errands, serving the inner disciples." His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I haven't seen a single one just... sitting. Talking. Resting."

Shen Yuan looked closer. Shen Jiu was right. Every outer disciple they'd seen over the past three days had been doing something. Always moving, always working. He'd thought it was just dedication, good discipline.

But now that Jiu-ge mentioned it... where was the downtime? The gossip sessions, the goofing off, the exhausted disciples collapsing in the shade after a hard training session? Even at Qiu Manor, the servants had moments of rest. Even Cloud River's disciples, for all their struggles, had laughed and joked during the festival.

These disciples moved like... not even NPCs. They moved more like automatons. Still, Shining Peak Sect was easily the most advanced sect they'd visited so far. Maybe this was just what peak performance looked like? When your average inner disciple was well into Foundation Establishment instead of barely into Qi Condensation, maybe this level of regimented training was just normal? Less goofing around, more grinding?

Ruolan paused mid-step. Her expression didn't change—still stuck in her usual bright, cheerful half-smile. But something shifted in her eyes. Shen Yuan recognized that look. It was the same look of going back through her memories, revisiting every previously overlooked detail and tilting them this way and that to examine them at a new angle.

"Lan-Lan?" Shen Yuan prompted, pausing as well, causing Shen Jiu to stop walking. The both of them turned to her curiously.

"I'm sure it's just their training style," she said lightly, though her smile had gained a thoughtful edge. "But... maybe I'll make some friends. Get to know the place better."

Shen Yuan shrugged. "If you want. We've been doing the social rounds pretty hard the past few days anyway." Even Shen Jiu didn't look particularly convinced whether his suspicion was unfounded or not, but he also didn't seem inclined to push it.

Shen Yuan had thought that would be the end of it. Shen Ruolan practically made friends everywhere they went—now that they weren't confined to Qiu Manor, her friendly, bubbly personality just made it happen naturally. She'd probably chat with some disciples, confirm everything was fine, and they'd move on to the next lead.

Except.

The first time Shen Yuan noticed something off was that evening at dinner.

Ruolan had somehow ended up seated with a group of inner sect disciples, about a half dozen young women around her age, giggling over shared meals. She fit in perfectly, her laugh bright and genuine-sounding, her questions innocent and admiring.

"So the outer disciples really train that much?" Ruolan asked, wide-eyed with what looked like genuine admiration. "That's so dedicated! Don't they ever get tired?"

One of the girls—a pretty older woman with her hair done up in an elaborate braid—laughed. "Oh, they're just used to it! Shining Peak has high standards. The sect holds competitions every three months—outer disciples compete for the chance to advance to inner disciple status. Only the top performers make it."

"And we inner disciples have our own competitions," another added with a slightly competitive gleam in her eye. "The top three winners receive special cultivation pills from the sect elders. They're incredibly effective—I jumped a minor realm in just two months after winning mine."

Ruolan's eyes went appropriately wide. "Cultivation pills that powerful? Your sect must have amazing alchemists! Or do you harvest rare herbs from Whispering Glade Forest?"

The enthusiastic disciple opened her mouth, then hesitated. The girl with the braid cut in smoothly, "The elders handle the sourcing. We're just grateful for the opportunity. All of us, both the inner and the outer sect disciples."

"And the sect takes such good care of them," another chimed in. "Housing, meals, training—all provided. They're so lucky to have this opportunity."

"That's amazing," Ruolan gushed. "And I heard some disciples even transferred here from other sects? That must mean Shining Peak's reputation is really something special!"

The girls beamed, clearly pleased. "Oh yes! We get transfers all the time. Sect Leader Yan is very generous about accepting talented cultivators, even if they've trained elsewhere."

"Have you met any of them? The transfers, I mean?" Ruolan leaned in conspiratorially. "I'd love to hear what other sects are like. For comparison, you know?"

A slight pause. The girl with the braid glanced at her companions. "Well... I haven't personally met them. They usually train with the outer disciples at first, to acclimate to our methods."

"Makes sense!" Ruolan said brightly, already moving on to ask about training schedules and favorite techniques.

Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu were seated across the hall. Look, he could socialize too, but they'd been doing that non-stop for days. Shen Jiu had an even shorter social battery, and today was recharge day. So they'd claimed a quiet corner table, ate in companionable silence, and watched the dining hall dynamics play out.

Ruolan had wandered off earlier and now appeared to have the other disciples eating out of the palm of her hand, laughing at her jokes, answering her questions with enthusiastic detail.

Huh. She's… really good at this.

It wasn't anything suspicious on the surface. Just friendly conversation. But Shen Yuan noticed how deliberately she steered the topics, how she remembered every name and detail mentioned, how she laughed at exactly the right moments to disarm people and keep them talking.

Later that evening, the three siblings reconvened in their shared quarters. Ruolan filled them in on what she'd learned, her expression thoughtful.

"Cultivation pills powerful enough to jump a minor realm in two months," Shen Yuan said, his strategist brain already working. "That's... that's not normal. Even high-grade pills from reputable alchemists don't work that fast without serious side effects."

Shen Jiu's eyes had sharpened. "And they got evasive when you asked about the source."

"The older disciples especially," Ruolan confirmed. "Like they knew something but didn't want to say."

Shen Yuan exchanged a look with Shen Jiu. Even if there was nothing nefarious going on—even if it was just an incredibly talented alchemist or access to rare herbs—a resource like that was worth investigating. Any sect that could produce pills of that quality either had access to something extraordinary or had developed techniques worth learning about.

"We should look into it," Shen Yuan said carefully. "At minimum, if they have a legitimate source, it's valuable cultivation knowledge. And if something's off..."

"Then we need to know," Shen Jiu finished, his expression grim.

Ruolan nodded, that determined glint back in her eyes. "I'll keep asking questions. Carefully."

The next day, she was someone else entirely.

Shen Yuan found her in the medical pavilion, talking to an older disciple who was tending to injured juniors. Gone was the bubbly enthusiasm from the night before. Now Ruolan was soft-spoken and concerned, her voice gentle as she helped bandage a child's scraped knee.

"You're so dedicated," she told the medical disciple. "It must be exhausting, caring for so many. Do the younger ones get injured often during training?"

The disciple, a tired-looking woman in her thirties, softened under Ruolan's sympathy. "More than they should," she admitted quietly. "Especially the outer sect orphans. They push themselves too hard—or they're pushed. Sometimes I can't tell which anymore."

Ruolan nodded sympathetically, and the conversation moved on. But Shen Yuan, watching from the doorway, saw the way his sister's fingers tightened briefly on the bandage she was holding.

She's hunting.

Over the next few days, the siblings split their investigation efforts. Ruolan worked the social angles—becoming a dozen different people depending on who she needed to talk to. But Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu took point on everything else.

While Ruolan charmed information out of disciples, Shen Yuan spent his time in the sect's library and administrative buildings. He claimed to be researching songs, poems and other inspiration for his own musical cultivation. He'd hinted that he was interested in writing a song about feats from the sect's history which gave him an excuse to request access to records. Formation theory, alchemy texts, sect histories—he read through everything he could get his hands on, looking for inconsistencies. The sect's resource consumption didn't match their apparent income. Their disciple advancement rates were statistically improbable. And there were gaps in the archives.

Shen Jiu, meanwhile, mapped the sect grounds with methodical precision. He noted building layouts, guard rotations, restricted areas. During their training sessions and demonstrations, he watched how disciples moved, catalogued their cultivation levels, and identified who held real authority versus ceremonial positions. His street survival instincts made him excellent at spotting patterns—and he'd spotted several that didn't make sense. Disciples avoiding certain areas. Guards who changed shifts at irregular intervals around the eastern building. Supply deliveries that went in but never seemed to come out.

They were all focused on it, but Shen Yuan was growing increasingly concerned about his little sister. Ruolan was approaching the investigation with a relentless, almost obsessive single-mindedness that was completely unlike her usual sunny disposition.

On the third day, Shen Yuan tried to suggest she take a break.

"Lan-mei, you've been going non-stop," he said, catching her between one social engagement and the next. "We've got good leads from the records and building surveys. Maybe ease up a bit?"

Ruolan's smile didn't waver, but she studiously avoided his gaze. "And I've got leads from the people side. Different angles, ge. I'm just making friends! You know how I am."

The next evening, even Shen Jiu tried. "You're drawing attention," he said bluntly. "Being everywhere, talking to everyone. People will notice."

"People notice a friendly girl who likes to socialize?" Ruolan's tone was light, almost teasing. "Jiu-ge, that's literally what everyone expects from me. I'm just being myself." She patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'm being careful. Besides, you two have been sneaking around archives and doing reconnaissance. If anyone's going to get caught, it'll be the two men acting suspicious, not me."

Shen Yuan had to admit she had a point.

Shen Yuan exchanged a look with Shen Jiu. His brother's expression was somewhere between impressed and exasperated.

"She's not going to stop," Shen Jiu said.

"No," Shen Yuan agreed. "She's really not."

When did our little sister become this... focused? He had a pretty good guess as to the answer, but knowing the reason didn't stop him from worrying that she was running herself into the ground chasing shadows—or worse, that she'd find exactly what she was looking for.

Things continued this way for nearly a week—Ruolan working her social network, Shen Yuan piecing together documentary evidence, and Shen Jiu mapping the physical reality of the sect. Then one evening, when Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu were returning from a demonstration of musical cultivation they'd given for some of the inner disciples—showing off their coordination, building goodwill, and using the opportunity to observe the eastern building from a different vantage point—Ruolan intercepted them in the corridor outside their quarters.

She made a beeline in their direction, and when she reached them, she tilted her head toward their rooms with a meaningful look. Her expression was more grim than he'd seen in months.

Once inside with the door closed and a privacy talisman activated, she said quietly, "We need to talk. I found something."

She laid it all out—confirmation of what they'd already suspected. The servants had finally talked to her about the eastern building, the guards' schedules, what little they knew about what happened inside. Her intelligence matched perfectly with the ledger Shen Yuan had found and the guard patterns Shen Jiu had mapped.

"It's definitely a prison," Shen Jiu said flatly. "And based on the food deliveries and the number of missing names in that ledger..."

"A lot of people," Shen Yuan finished grimly.

They spent the next two days planning the infiltration. All three of them huddled in their quarters after dark, cross-referencing everything they'd gathered. Shen Yuan finalized the building layout from what he'd seen in architectural texts. Shen Jiu identified the optimal entry point and timing based on guard patterns. Ruolan secured them an alibi and ensured the right people would be distracted at the right time.

When they finally broke into the eastern building under cover of darkness, what they found made Shen Yuan's stomach turn.

Cages. Rows and rows of them, built into the walls of what should have been meditation chambers. Inside each one, cultivators, some as young as ten and others almost in adulthood. But all of them, without fail, were emaciated, hollow-eyed, and barely conscious. Their spiritual energy was being systematically drained through formation arrays carved into the floor, feeding into collection vessels that glowed with sickly light.

​Human cauldrons. Living cultivation tools.

Shen Jiu went very, very still beside him. Then his hand moved to Yueji Ji, and the killing intent that rolled off him was palpable enough to make the air feel heavy.

"Orphans," Shen Jiu said, his voice soft and deadly. "Street children. Slaves promised freedom if they came here to cultivate." His fingers tightened on his weapon until his knuckles went white. "They lured them in with hope. With the promise of becoming something more. And then they—"

He couldn't finish. Didn't need to.

Shen Yuan didn't have to guess who his brother was thinking about right now. Shen Jiu was moving through the chamber, peering into each cage with wild, murderous eyes—but beneath the rage was something else. Something that looked suspiciously like fear. He examined each half-conscious face with desperate intensity, his movements jerky and barely controlled.

He's looking for Yue Qi.

The thought made Shen Yuan feel sick.

But it was the sudden sharp spike of killing intent from his other side that made him turn.

Ruolan stood quietly, observing the cages with an expression that was almost serene. But her hand was clenched so tightly around Sanban Gehua that her knuckles had gone white, and the air around her seemed to shimmer with barely-contained fury.

"Lan-Lan," he said carefully. "Are you... okay?"

She looked at him, and then the mask cracked. Her eyes were haunted as they filled with tears, raw with a guilt that had nothing to do with this place and everything to do with another.

"I missed it before," she said quietly. "Back at home... at Qiu Manor. I was so stupid, so blind. I didn't see what Father and A-Luo were doing to Jiu-ge." Her voice wavered, then caught. "No—that's not even true. I did see. I saw the bruises. The way Jiu-ge would flinch sometimes. How he'd go quiet and distant after being summoned to A-Luo's quarters. But I told myself everything was fine. That there had to be other explanations—training accidents, clumsiness, just Jiu-ge being his usual reserved self."

Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. "And when I couldn't explain it away, A-Luo was right there with ready-made lies. 'Jiu-ge is adjusting to cultivation training, it's harder for him because he started late.' 'He's just moody because he's not used to family life.' 'You know how sensitive he is about his background.' And I—I wanted to believe him. Because if I didn't..."

Her voice broke. "If I didn't believe him, then I'd have to admit that my brother—my charming, kind, perfect older brother—was a monster. That my parents knew and didn't care. That almost my whole family was rotten and I was living in a house built on cruelty."

Tears were streaming down her face now, but she kept talking, the words spilling out like a confession. "I saw the signs. I had all the pieces. But I kept... rearranging them. Finding ways to make them fit a prettier picture. Even when A-Yuan started asking questions, I defended A-Luo. I told him he was being paranoid, that there was no way—" She choked on a sob. "And if A-Yuan hadn't been there, if he hadn't kept pushing, kept insisting something was wrong... I would have kept believing the lies. I would have smiled and pretended everything was fine while Jiu-ge suffered."

She looked up at Shen Yuan with haunted eyes. "Do you understand? Even with you telling me something was wrong, I wasn't fully convinced until we were fighting A-Luo. Until he started laughing about it, throwing it in our faces like it was all just a game. That's how deep the denial went. That's how much I didn't want to see it."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Mother and Father—I knew they were cruel to Jiu-ge. They never hid that he was unwanted, that he was just the bastard they had to tolerate. That kind of abuse was... visible. Expected, almost, in a horrible way. But A-Luo?" She laughed bitterly. "A-Luo was nice. He was charming and respected and everything a noble heir should be. And that's exactly what made it so easy to ignore. Because good people don't do those things. And if A-Luo was doing those things, then he couldn't be good. And if he wasn't good, then what did that say about me for not seeing it?"

She wiped her eyes roughly. "These children here—someone ignored the signs. Or they saw them and convinced themselves there had to be another explanation. Or they believed the sect's lies about 'advanced training' and 'special cultivation techniques' because it was easier than admitting the truth."

Her grip tightened on Sanban Gehua until her whole hand shook. "Never again. I will not look away. I will not talk myself into comfortable lies. I will not miss the signs. Because I know exactly how easy it is to be complicit without meaning to be. And I refuse to be that person ever again."

Shen Yuan reached out and pulled her into a hug. She collapsed into his side, shaking lightly.

He wanted to shoulder the guilt for her. He was older—physically and mentally, with twenty-plus years from his past life. If anyone should bear the blame for not noticing, it should be him. He'd had the knowledge, the context, the psychological framework to recognize abuse. And he'd still missed the primary perpetrator for far too long.

"You were just a kid, mei-mei," he said softly. "Barely a teenager. You trusted the adults around you, like children should be able to. It's not—it wasn't your responsibility to police your own family. Fighting the evils of the world, protecting everyone from harm... that's not a burden kids are supposed to carry."

"Maybe not then." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. "But it is now."

Shen Jiu rejoined them, his face still grim but slightly calmer. The wild edge had left his eyes, replaced by cold, calculating fury—slightly less frightening than the raw panic from before. But only slightly.

"He's not here," Shen Jiu said flatly, answering the question Shen Yuan hadn't dared to ask.

Relief flooded through him so suddenly it left him dizzy. Yue Qi wasn't here. They were still wandering blind in their hunt for him, still following cold trails and fading rumors. But at least—at least—this wasn't a fate he'd had to suffer.

Shen Yuan didn't even want to imagine what sort of murderous vengeance Shen Jiu would have extracted if Yue Qi had been among these cages. As it was, standing between Lan-mei and Jiu-ge's combined killing intent was like being caught between two avalanches. The air pressure alone made it hard to breathe.

"We need to get them out," Shen Yuan said, forcing himself to focus. "And then we need to alert someone with actual authority before this whole sect comes down on our heads."

"Bai Tianying," Ruolan said, straightening and wiping her eyes. Her voice had steadied, the mask clicking back into place—but her grip on her weapon hadn't loosened. "We get Shizun. She'll know what to do."

Shen Jiu nodded once, sharp and decisive. "Let's move."

They found Bai Tianying in her guest quarters and told her everything.

Her reaction was immediate and visceral. The teacup in her hand shattered, porcelain and liquid falling to the floor unnoticed as her qi flared with rage.

"Cauldron cultivation," she said, voice tight with fury. "That technique is exclusively used by human cultivators. These aren't demons in disguise, they're demonic cultivators. Humans who've chosen to sacrifice others for power." She stood abruptly, already reaching for her weapon. "Show me."

They led her to the eastern building. She took one look at the arrays, the cages, the barely-living victims, and her expression went cold as winter.

"We're getting them out," she said. It wasn't a suggestion. "Now."

It took hours. The children were so weak that moving them was dangerous—their cultivation bases damaged, possibly beyond repair. Bai Tianying worked with quick, precise movements, using her superior cultivation to stabilize them one by one while the siblings carefully extracted them from the formation arrays.

When the last child was free, Bai Tianying stood and began forming hand seals. A barrier sprang up around the building, shimmering and impenetrable.

"This will hold until help arrives," she said. "The nearest town is too far for us to escort them safely, and we can't leave them unguarded."

She pulled out two messenger talismans—delicate paper constructs that glowed softly in her hands. Whispering into each one, she infused them with qi. When she released them, they transformed into white doves of light that shot into the sky, one heading southeast toward Cloud River Sect, the other toward the capital.

"The sect elders have likely been alerted to our intrusion," Bai Tianying said, her voice grim. "They'll come for the children—and for us. We hold this position until reinforcements arrive. Three days, maybe four if we're unlucky."

Shen Yuan felt his stomach drop. "We're going to fight an entire sect?"

"We're going to defend," Bai Tianying corrected. "There's a difference. We set up a perimeter, we hold the line, and we do not let them reclaim these children." Her eyes were hard as stone. "Understood?"

"Understood," all three siblings said in unison.

They set up a defensive perimeter around the building. Bai Tianying created layered barrier formations—not impenetrable, but enough to slow attackers and give warning. The siblings took shifts, maintaining watch while the rescued children huddled together inside, too traumatized to do much beyond stare with hollow eyes.

The first attack came at dawn.

Sect elders and inner disciples poured out of the main compound like angry hornets, their qi blazing with righteous fury. Shen Yuan recognized the irony immediately—they looked like the defenders of justice, while his group looked like the kidnappers.

"Return the disciples to their training!" one elder bellowed. "You have no authority to—"

"Training?" Bai Tianying's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Is that what you call systematic cultivation base destruction? Human cauldron techniques?" Her qi flared, and the elder stumbled back. "The capital has been notified. Cloud River Sect has been notified. You can surrender now, or you can die resisting justice. Choose quickly."

They chose poorly.

The battle was chaos. Bai Tianying held the center, a whirlwind of devastating strikes that kept the strongest cultivators occupied. The siblings formed a defensive triangle around the building's entrance, their prepared traps and their coordination honed by months of training paying off in lethal efficiency.

Shen Yuan moved through the forms he'd practiced a thousand times, Tianyin Zhiqi singing as it deflected strikes and countered with golden-edged slashes. His voice rose in battle hymns that disrupted enemy formations and strengthened his siblings' attacks.

Shen Jiu was a nightmare made flesh, his halberd spinning in deadly arcs, each strike precise and brutal. He didn't waste movement, didn't show mercy. These people had done to others what Qiu Jianluo had done to him, and his vengeance was cold and absolute.

But it was Ruolan who made Shen Yuan's blood run cold. He was older, physically and even moreso mentally, so for him to fight against humans without flinching was one thing. And he could understand why Shen Jiu wouldn't hesitate. But Ruolan?

His sister—his kind, cheerful sister—moved like a force of nature. Her daggers flashed in the dawn light, and throats opened. Blood sprayed. Her voice, which had been so bright during their songs, now carried a chilling resonance that made the cultivators stumble and weep before she struck them down. Her talismans activated with brutal efficiency—ice that didn't just slow but froze, fire that didn't warn but immolated.

There was no hesitation in her movements. No mercy in her eyes. Just cold, calculated violence delivered with her usual serene smile, that looked extremely ominous in this context, Lan-mei!

What the hell happened to his happy-go-lucky mei-mei?

Ruolan made friends everywhere, laughed easily, and had once cried over an injured bird. Shen Yuan couldn't help shake the feeling that this was his fault. If he had just seen what was happening at Qiu Manor—if he'd been the older brother he was supposed to be—maybe she wouldn't have had to learn that the world required this kind of ruthlessness.

The attacks came in waves over three days. Each time, the sect sent more elders, even some older disciples, more desperate attempts to reclaim their operation. And each time, the siblings and Bai Tianying drove them back, leaving bodies scattered across the courtyard.

​By the third day, Shen Yuan had stopped bothering to count the number of people they'd killed.

On the evening of the third day, when the attacks had finally stopped—either because reinforcements were coming or because Shining Peak had run out of cultivators willing to die for their crimes—the siblings sat together in exhausted silence.

Ruolan was methodically cleaning her blades, her expression a bit blank. There was blood on her robes that she hadn't bothered to wash off yet.

"They deserved worse," she said simply, not looking up from her work, as if sensing he was about to speak.

Shen Yuan swallowed. "Ruolan—"

"Some humans are just as bad as demons," Shen Jiu said, his voice flat. He met Shen Yuan's gaze. "Worse, even. Demons are corrupted—they've lost themselves to darkness, given up control to Gui Mo. But these people?" He gestured toward the courtyard. "They chose this. With full awareness. With human souls intact. They looked at suffering children and saw resources."

Ruolan nodded, finally looking up. "Jiu-ge's right. Demons are... tragic, in a way. But demonic cultivators? They're just evil. And they chose it."

Shen Yuan looked between them, his chest tight. The distinction they were making, demons versus demonic cultivators, suddenly felt very important. "So... what you're saying is that becoming a demon isn't the same as choosing to be evil?"

Shen Jiu's gaze was unreadable, his lips pressed in his usual perpetual frown. "Humans become demons for many reasons—power, desperation. But no matter the reason, they still chose to sell their souls to Gui Mo." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "That's a kind of weakness, maybe. And the end result always leads to evil. But choosing to become a demon out of despair isn't the same as choosing cruelty for its own sake."

"Once you're a demon, though, you're still dangerous," Ruolan added quietly. "The corruption eats away at you. Eventually you lose your humanity entirely and become a demonic beast. So even if the becoming wasn't evil... the end result is still something that has to be stopped."

Shen Yuan's hand drifted unconsciously to his sleeve, where the corruption mark lay hidden. "Do you think... could there be a demon who fights against it? Someone who became one but doesn't want to hurt people?"

The question hung in the air.

Shen Jiu was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know. We haven't seen one yet." His eyes flickered to Shen Yuan with something that might have been suspicion or might have been concern. "But theoretically..." He seemed to struggle with the thought. "If someone gave their soul to Gui Mo in a moment of despair rather than malice, could they have enough of themselves left to want to be good?" He shrugged, clearly uncertain. "Maybe. But they'd be fighting their own nature every single day. And eventually..." He didn't finish, but the implication was clear. Eventually, they'd lose.

Ruolan's smile was small and sad. "I hope that if someone fell into despair, if they made that bargain in their worst moment…" She fiddled with one of her daggers before adding, "It would be nice if the world was kinder. If there was some sort of path back from that. I'd want to see it."

Me too, he thought. Me too.

Shen Yuan nodded, the cold creeping a little further up his arm beneath his sleeve. His demonic mark pulsed, as if acknowledging the conversation.

How can I tell them?

Ruolan, who'd just spent days dissecting her own failure to see what was happening to Shen Jiu. Who'd confessed, voice breaking, that she'd seen the signs and talked herself out of believing them. Who'd promised herself that she would never miss the signs again, never ignore what was right in front of her.

And here Shen Yuan was, hiding something massive. Something that, if she knew, would devastate her. Not just because he was becoming a demon, but because he'd kept it from her.

And Shen Jiu…

Shen Jiu, who was just starting to believe that maybe, maybe, the entire world wasn't out to get him. That he wasn't singled out by fate to live and die alone and unloved. He was learning, hesitantly and stubbornly, that family might mean something else.

Shen Yuan had watched his brother slowly, painfully slowly open up over the past months away from Qiu Manor. The way Shen Jiu had initiated contact that night after the interrogation. The trust that was being built brick by careful brick.

And what would happen when Shen Jiu found out Shen Yuan was turning into a demon? That he'd been hiding it this whole time, lying by omission every single day?

The mark pulsed again, cold spreading further. Time was running out. Eventually, it would be impossible to hide. And the longer he waited, the worse the revelation would be.

But looking at his siblings—Ruolan still processing her guilt, Shen Jiu still learning to trust—Shen Yuan couldn't bring himself to say anything. Not yet. Not when they were all still so fragile, still rebuilding from their own traumas.

Just a little longer, he promised, pleaded. I’ll get them somewhere safe, get them closure, find Yue Qi. I'll try to find a cure. And if that fails… A bitter thought flickered. Then I’ll leave before I can ever hurt them. Go somewhere far away, where the only person my curse can destroy is me.

The next morning, Cloud River Sect arrived with reinforcements. Sect Leader Gong himself led the contingent, and if he was surprised to find them still alive and the building still standing, he hid it well.

"The capital's forces are two days behind us," he said, surveying the carnage. "We'll hold the position until they arrive." His gaze swept over the siblings, lingering on the blood-stained state of their robes, the exhaustion in their faces. "You fought well. Better than well."

Bai Tianying nodded tiredly. "The children need medical attention. And the sect's records need to be secured before anyone tries to destroy evidence."

"Already being handled," Gong assured her. He hesitated, then added, "I owe you an apology. All of you. Especially you, Shen Jiu. My... interrogation was inappropriate."

Shen Jiu's expression didn't change. "Gong-zhangman was right to be suspicious. You were just suspicious of the wrong people."

It was as close to acceptance as Gong was going to get.

With Cloud River Sect taking over the temporary leadership of Shining Peak and the Immortal Alliance's representatives en route, there was finally time to breathe. Bai Tianying threw herself into coordination efforts, ensuring the rescued children received care and the investigation proceeded properly.

The siblings found themselves with little to do but wait... and process. Shen Yuan found himself growing restless with all the downtime, which was... weird. What had happened to him? In another life, he'd been a shut-in gamer perfectly content to spend entire days in his room. Now he couldn't sit still for more than an hour without feeling like he should be doing something—training, investigating, moving forward. Character development was wild.

On the third evening, Shen Yuan and Ruolan split off to give themselves space. Shen Yuan had wandered the grounds, trying to settle the chaos in his head, while Ruolan had disappeared to help in the medical pavilion. But when evening fell and they reconvened, Shen Jiu was nowhere to be found.

They found him eventually, in one of the outer gardens, a quiet space away from the activity of the main compound. He was sitting beneath a willow tree, Yueji Ji resting across his lap, and he was singing.

Shen Yuan froze mid-step. Ruolan grabbed his arm, equally stunned.

Shen Jiu sang in their group performances, of course. He knew his parts, hit his notes with precision. But this was different. This was his song, his words, his melody. Soft and melancholic, carried on the evening breeze.

Shen Yuan didn't even know his brother wrote songs. Shen Jiu never really contributed outside of the occasional ad-lib when they sat down to compose together. Jiu-ge, you've been holding out on us!

A whole day went by missing you²
A whole year went by missing you
I just live like this (Live like this)
Missing you, missing you

Shen Yuan felt his chest constrict in sympathy. Ah, right in the feels. The longing in those words, the ache—it was so raw, so Shen Jiu. Missing someone who might be gone forever, holding onto hope despite everything. They were such good bros.

Ruolan moved first, stepping into the garden with quiet reverence. Shen Yuan followed. Shen Jiu's voice faltered when he noticed them, but Ruolan was already humming the harmony, her voice soft and supportive. Shen Yuan joined in a moment later, weaving his part beneath theirs.

For a few minutes, they just sang together. No words needed, no explanations. Just the three of them, their voices blending in the growing dark.

When the song faded, silence settled, comfortably this time, instead of heavy.

"That was beautiful, Jiu-ge," Ruolan said quietly. "Did you write it?"

Shen Jiu didn't answer directly, but he didn't deny it either. Just looked down at his hands, jaw tight.

"We'll find him," Shen Yuan said. Not a question. A promise.

Shen Jiu's fingers tightened briefly on Yueji Ji's shaft, his knuckles going white. "We've checked every sect in the central region." His voice was quiet, but there was something raw and desperate beneath it that he was barely keeping contained.

Shen Yuan watched his brother's expression carefully. They'd just discovered a sect that promised desperate, talented people—exactly what Yue Qi had been—a chance at cultivation, only to use them as human cauldrons. Disposable resources. And Yue Qi wasn't here, which meant...

"If he's not in the central region," Shen Jiu continued, his voice dropping even lower, "then he could be anywhere. Facing..." He didn't finish, but Shen Yuan could fill in the blanks. Facing the same thing. Or worse.

The silence stretched. For the first time since they'd started searching, Shen Yuan saw Shen Jiu genuinely grappling with the possibility that they might never know. That Yue Qi could already be gone—sold, used, discarded. Or that he'd simply disappeared into the vastness of the cultivation world, impossible to trace.

"Then we go further," Ruolan said simply, her voice steady and sure. She reached out, not quite touching Shen Jiu but close enough to be felt. "We keep looking. We don't stop."

Shen Jiu's jaw worked, and for a moment Shen Yuan thought he might argue. But instead, he just gave a sharp nod, his expression hardening back into determination.

​Shen Yuan nodded as well, his mind already working through logistics—and trying not to think about his own ticking clock. "The human realm is divided into regions: the Central Region under the Emperor's control, and then four outer regions maintained by the Great Four Sects." He glanced at Shen Jiu. "You've heard about them, right? Cang Qiong, Huan Hua, Tian Yi, and Zhao Hua?"

"Yeah," Shen Jiu's expression shifted, something calculating entering his eyes. "Yue Qi would have aimed for Cang Qiong Mountain."

"Really?" Ruolan asked. "Why that one specifically?"

"They preach about how even the lowest can rise, no matter their circumstances," Shen Jiu said, his voice matter-of-fact. "Saying Qi-ge was... drawn to that type of rhetoric, would be underselling it. They're also the most prestigious. And he was ambitious like that. If he made it out of the central region and went anywhere, it would be towards there."

Shen Yuan had only heard of Yue Qi through Shen Jiu's stories, but he really did seem like the classic plucky young hero type—determined, hopeful, refusing to give up despite the odds. He must be something special to get Shen Jiu to talk about him in this almost-admiring fashion. (Well. In his typical Shen Jiu way, anyway). The thought made Shen Yuan smile, but it wasn't enough to suppress the bit of trepidation settling in his stomach at Shen Jiu's words. I probably wouldn't even be able to make it past the wards surrounding a place like that. Not with this corruption.

He bit his lip. "I'm not sure we could get an audience with them. Or any of the Great Four Sects, outside of maybe Huan Hua." He tried to keep his voice casual, trying not to show that he felt like the worst person in the world right now. "Even if we resorted to using the Qiu family name as minor nobles, I don't think it would be enough. Nobles are as common as dust motes at sects like that."

Ruolan was quiet for a moment, then her eyes lit up. "Actually... I might have an idea if we need an in. When I was investigating, I overheard some disciples talking about a tournament. A pretty big one, being hosted by Huan Hua Palace next year. All four Great Sects are supposed to be participating."

Shen Jiu sat up straighter. "A tournament?"

"It's not the Immortal Alliance Conference or anything," Ruolan clarified, "but it's still a major event. Disciples from all over will be there, and the sects will be scouting for talent." She smiled, that familiar scheming glint entering her eyes. "We could find an in with one of the sects while they're all gathered. Build connections, get introductions..."

"And if we perform well enough in the tournament, they might actually want to talk to us," Shen Yuan finished, catching on. His strategist brain was already spinning possibilities. "We'd have leverage. Reputation. A reason for them to give us access."

Shen Jiu was nodding slowly, his perpetual frown easing slightly. "A year gives us time to prepare. Get stronger. We'd need to be at Foundation Establishment at minimum to compete—even higher would be better."

"And we'd need to perfect our coordination," Ruolan added. "If we're going to stand out, it has to be as a unit. Show them what musical cultivation can really do."

Shen Yuan looked between his siblings—Ruolan's determined expression, Shen Jiu's cautious hope—and felt something settle in his chest. A plan. A direction. And maybe, just maybe, enough time to figure things out.

"So we train," he said. "We travel, take on missions, build up our cultivation bases. And in a year, we make our debut at Huan Hua Palace's tournament."

"And find Yue Qi," Shen Jiu said quietly.

"And find Yue Qi," Shen Yuan agreed.

Ruolan reached out, placing one hand in the center of their small circle. Shen Yuan put his hand on top of hers without hesitation. After a moment, Shen Jiu added his own.

"Together," Ruolan said.

"Together," they echoed.

Above them, the stars were beginning to emerge, and for the first time in days, Shen Yuan felt himself feeling more optimistic than he had in weeks.