Lin Shijin lowered his head and applied the ointment himself. It was gentle, not cooling in the least, and once he had finished, the discomfort faded considerably. He handed the jar back.
“Shixiong.” He leaned in against Sheng Rufei as he spoke, then cast a glance at Yinbing, which was practically quivering with eagerness at the side. Pressing a fingertip against it, he pinned the sword flat.
“No more crawling into my arms.”
He felt Yinbing nuzzle faintly against his fingertip, but he held it in place. “Acting cute won’t help.”
The sword went still, though its body shifted slightly, looking faintly aggrieved.
Sheng Rufei put the ointment away and ignored him. Lin Shijin poked him again. The “block of wood” remained seated in the corner, turning his face slightly and lowering his gaze to look at him.
“I got out of my little maze just now,” Lin Shijin said, unconcerned by his temper, tugging at his sleeve. “Make me a harder one.”
“Guess how I managed it? I followed my instincts. Whichever way my intuition pointed, I chose the opposite.”
“There were little orange lamps on the walls inside, lighting everything up so brightly. Did you make those as well, Shixiong?”
His attention was already drawn away. Reaching into the maze, he fished out one of the tiny lamps. It glowed a warm orange, carved with a little sheep, small enough to cradle in his arms.
The soft light spilled across his face. He heard Sheng Rufei give a low “Mm.”
Then the maze was taken from him. Wisps of pale light seeped through it, and a moment later it was returned.
“This one is much harder,” Sheng Rufei said.
Lin Shijin gave an “Oh” and sat beside him, the wooden beads in the tray chiming softly as they shifted. Eager to try, he immediately sank into the miniature maze.
Less than three seconds later, he came rushing back out, a cold sweat breaking across his back.
The orange lamps had all been replaced by hanging ghosts, their bluish-purple faces stretched and their long tongues lolling out.
The warm glow was gone. In its place lay layers of black mist, thick with dangling spectres.
It didn’t take much guessing to know who had altered it. He barely took a few steps before his legs went weak. It was three seconds, and he was out again.
Still shaken, Lin Shijin stared at the youth beside him, lips pressed down slightly. He reached out and tugged at Sheng Rufei’s ear.
He tugged. There was no reaction.
Sheng Rufei’s gaze was lowered, dark and deep, as though it might swallow him whole.
“Shixiong, are you a child or what?”
Now genuinely displeased, Lin Shijin tossed aside the wooden tray and shuffled off to the corner to sulk.
“Shuffled” was generous. He had only moved a little. If he stretched out a hand, he could still touch Sheng Rufei.
Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, secretly paying attention to Sheng Rufei’s movements.
The carriage fell quiet. Neither of them spoke.
Before long, drowsiness crept in. Just as he was drifting off, he felt a faint movement. His ear was bitten again.
He pushed at the person in front of him, but couldn’t budge him. His arm moved instinctively, wrapping around Sheng Rufei as he found a comfortable position in his embrace and fell asleep.
…
They set off again before dawn.
Lin Shijin yawned. On the small table lay his wooden maze, some snacks… and a few wildflowers, still beaded with dew, as though freshly picked.
There were also little straw figures, woven from silver-grey stalks, their “hair” made from pale grass, giving them a silvery sheen. They even bore a faint resemblance to Sheng Rufei.
He didn’t need to guess who had made them.
Warmth spread through his chest as he picked one up and went to find him.
“Shixiong—”
The moment he stepped out, he froze.
Black mist churned in thick layers, engulfing everything, swallowing the road ahead. The moon and clouds were veiled, and from within the darkness came faint, mournful wails, streaked now and then with flashes of blood-red that made one’s chest tighten.
Inside the carriage had been a warm nest. Outside was an abyss.
At Sheng Rufei’s fingertips, strands of spiritual light flowed, threading through the barrier and piercing deep into the mist. His silver blade flashed free.
A streak of snow-bright sword light split the heavens, illuminating half the sky and tearing the darkness apart.
The cries sharpened, ragged and piercing.
Lin Shijin still clutched the little straw figure, pressing it to his chest, unsure how he could possibly help.
“Shixiong?”
Only upon drawing closer did he notice the wound on Sheng Rufei’s cheek. It was a shallow cut, tainted with demonic qi, the blood faintly darkened.
Silvery threads stretched forward from the carriage, all gathered in Sheng Rufei’s palm. Following their path, Lin Shijin’s gaze caught something within the mist.
A face. Faint, distorted, twisted… just like those he had seen in Yixiu City.
Sheng Rufei turned slightly, his brows knitting when he saw him. “Go back inside.”
Lin Shijin did not move.
Instead, he crouched down beside him. “I’m worried about you, Shixiong. I don’t want to stay inside. Is there anything I can do?”
He lifted a hand, wanting to touch the wound, but paused halfway, afraid of distracting him.
He had scarcely used his sword along the journey. Somewhere along the way, he had realised. Not only was his aptitude poor, he simply could not bear to see blood on his blade.
But these were demonic entities… it should be different.
He drew his sword… paused… then slowly sheathed it again.
In his mind surged that same suffocating darkness. It was thick as ink, threaded with crimson. It flooded his veins, extinguishing every last trace of courage.
“Shixiong… I have plenty of spiritual energy.”
Sheng Rufei did not respond, nor did he send him away. Lin Shijin looked at the threads in his palm and reached out.
The moment his spiritual energy flowed in, the silver threads brightened, gaining vitality. More threads sprouted, multiplying, growing faster.
Relief loosened something in his chest. He poured in more energy.
The threads pierced through the mist, tearing it apart bit by bit. Slowly, the world returned. When the darkness finally dispersed, steep cliffs loomed on either side.
Lin Shijin blinked, dazed. He had no idea what had happened while he slept.
A gust of cold wind swept grit into his face. He spat twice, then glanced back.
Behind them, the black mist still churned, receding into the distance.
“Shixiong… was that an illusion array?”
Before Sheng Rufei could answer, a shadow crashed down.
The carriage jolted violently against a boulder. The world rang in his ears. Instinctively, he grabbed Sheng Rufei—
His shoulder slammed into stone. His vision went black.
*
By the time the carriage steadied, he barely managed to come back to himself. A hand rested on his head.
He opened his eyes, the taste of dust and iron thick in his mouth, nausea churning faintly. Sheng Rufei’s face was pale.
The wound on his cheek had shifted again—no longer blackened, but an intense, vivid red, like something burning too brightly.
“I told you to go back,” he said quietly.
His fingers brushed Lin Shijin’s shoulder. Pain exploded instantly. “Shixiong, don’t touch! It hurts!”
Lin Shijin hissed, clutching his shoulder, breath catching. It felt as though he might cough up blood.
“…It’s probably fractured,” he muttered, voice tight. “Shixiong, I think my bone’s cracked.”
He pressed it lightly, then immediately regretted it, going still.
“I’ll set it later,” Sheng Rufei said, a thread of spiritual energy easing the pain for now.
“And that wasn’t an illusion array,” he added. “It was demonic entities released by the cultivators chasing us.”
Lin Shijin blinked. “I didn’t see them… when did they catch up?”
“The yin hour.”
A brief pause. “They never showed themselves. Only used demonic constructs and puppetry.”
*
They continued on.
Only later did Lin Fuheng’s voice cut in, cool and abrupt: “Do you want to know why they’re hunting you?”
“For the sacred artefact. Breaking its illusion array is near impossible, yet your shixiong did it.”
“Now everyone has their eyes on him.”
Lin Shijin didn’t believe a word of the jab.
“Shixiong did it for me,” he said instead. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”
Then he hesitated.
“…But someone else broke the array too. The one who impersonated him.”
“Are you certain,” Lin Fuheng interrupted, “that he broke it to get in?”
The question struck like a stone. Lin Shijin froze. A memory surfaced… entering the array with Jun Yewu… yet never seeing him inside.
“…What are you saying?” he asked slowly. “That the one impersonating Shixiong was Jun Yewu?”
“No.”
“The array deceived both of you.”
“There was never a second person. Only the two of you inside.”
“And only your shixiong broke it.”
…
Silence lingered. Unease coiled in Lin Shijin’s chest. After a long while, he spoke again, quieter:
“Fuheng… you seem to know everything. Why have you been following me?”
A faint touch brushed his ear.
“Unresolved karma from a past life,” came the calm reply. “So I came.”
“I haven’t lived through these things. I’m only guessing. But I’m never wrong.”
A pause. Then, softer… “You are the one who sowed this karma. You must be the one to untangle it.”
