When qi flows between two beings, trust must flow first. The spirit knows friend from foe, even when consciousness sleeps. This is why the greatest healers must first heal themselves of doubt.
—Sage Master Li Wei, Keeper of the Eternal Patterns
Xiulan shifted her weight from foot to foot at the city manor’s main gate. Workers bustled past with carts piled high with lacquered furniture and ornate vases. The newly repaired postern gate gleamed with fresh paint and polished metal fixtures.
A twinge of satisfaction eased through her chest at the sight of the manor’s luxuries being carted away. Collecting the three-hundred seventy-five thousand taels to pay the prorated refund for the return of the Lin guard from the city garrison had not been simple.
But selling off excess furnishings—particularly from the now-empty family chambers—had covered the cost. Let the gossips wag their tongues. Dead people had no use for silk cushions and jade screens.
The morning sun climbed higher as she scanned the street for Master Qingfeng’s approach.
"I hope you haven’t been waiting long."
Xiulan spun around. Master Qingfeng stood behind her, immaculate in his dark blue robes despite having apparently scaled the manor wall. Not a single footstep had betrayed his approach.
"Master Qingfeng." Xiulan dropped into a formal bow. "Welcome to the Lin city manor."
"Miss Lin." Master Qingfeng inclined his head. "How fares your young friend?"
Xiulan let out a tense breath. "Mei Chen remains stable. The qi transfers seem to sustain her, though she hasn’t shown signs of waking."
"Very well. I am ready to see the patient." Master Qingfeng’s words carried a clinical precision.
Xiulan nodded. "Please follow me." She led him across the sun-warmed courtyard stones and through the main residence. Servants paused in their duties to bow as they passed. The wooden stairs creaked under their feet as they climbed to the second floor.
Two guards flanked Mei Chen’s door, stepping aside with crisp bows.
"There’s a slight chill," Xiulan warned.
A wave of cold air rushed out as she slid the door open. Xiulan stepped inside and turned—Master Qingfeng remained frozen at the threshold, staring at Mei Chen’s still form on the bed.
"Master Qingfeng?"
He stepped into the room. "Everything is exactly as you described."
The implied doubt in his tone pricked at Xiulan’s pride. She closed the door with a soft click.
Master Qingfeng approached the bed and wrapped his fingers around Mei Chen’s wrist. The steady focus of his examination made Xiulan’s hands clench and unclench at her sides.
He lifted his palm to hover before Mei Chen’s face, keeping it steady as seconds stretched into a full minute.
Master Qingfeng straightened from his examination. "Have you kept records of your qi transfer timing?"
Heat rushed to Xiulan’s face. "I—no." The admission stung. How could I be so careless? Back in Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles, she’d filled notebooks analyzing combat patterns and quest triggers. "I should have documented everything."
"Miss Lin." Master Qingfeng stepped back from the bed. "Your friend’s condition is grave." He shook his head. "I am not sure she can be saved."
The room spun. Xiulan gripped the bedpost as memories crashed through her—Mei Chen’s broken body, the meridian pill, that first spark of hope after everything had turned to ash. Air refused to fill her lungs.
"Please." The word scratched past her throat. "Tell me what you know."
"Mei Chen is dead."
Xiulan’s fingernails bit into her palms. "But—"
"Let me finish." Master Qingfeng raised a hand. "Though her physical form has expired, her spirit remains tethered to her corpse."
"In cultivation circles, we call these wrathful spirits." Master Qingfeng’s voice hardened. "They must be eliminated. Left unchecked, they prey upon both mortals and cultivators alike."
"Wait—" Xiulan’s voice cracked with desperation.
Master Qingfeng shook his head and gestured to Mei Chen. "Was this her state when she died?"
"I think I understand." Xiulan squared her shoulders and met his steady gaze.
Xiulan adjusted the leather straps on her horse’s pack, double-checking the distribution of travel rations. The bag needed to remain spacious enough to transport the blood lotus without crushing them. She patted the horse’s flank, earning a soft snort.
"Halt! State your name!" A guard’s sharp command echoed from the gate.
"How could you not recognize the famous Ren Chun?" The booming response made Xiulan roll her eyes. "I’m a guest of the lady of the manor. Let me through!"
Famous? Guest? Heat crept up Xiulan’s neck. Such proclamations would spark rumors throughout the entire county by nightfall.
She grabbed the reins of her two prepared horses and strode toward the gate. "Leave the guard alone. We’re departing immediately."
Ren Chun’s mouth dropped open. "Without sharing tea first? Surely we should discuss—"
"No time." Xiulan thrust the spare reins of the second horse into his hands. "Try to keep up."
"But..." Ren Chun stumbled back a step. "Where exactly are we going?"
"Blackmere swamp."
The crowd parted before them as Xiulan led her horse through the city streets. Morning merchants pulled their carts aside, and children scampered between stalls to clear the path.
"Surely you mean the villages near the swamp?" Ren Chun’s boots scuffed against the cobblestones. "Not the actual swamp itself? That place crawls with all manner of beasts!"
Xiulan glanced sideways at him. "Don’t tell me the ’great’ Ren Chun fears a few creatures? This mission will repay one of your favors, after all."
"Ha! Fear? I am Ren Chun!" He puffed out his chest.
Xiulan bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from rolling her eyes again. The market square opened up, the sun glinting off the central fountain’s spray.
Ren Chun darted forward, leaving her to catch the rein of his horse. In three bounds, he scaled the fountain’s edge and thrust his fist skyward. "Listen, good people! I, the heroic Ren Chun, embark on a perilous mission to aid fairy Lin Xiu—"
Xiulan yanked his ankle hard. Ren Chun tumbled backward with a spectacular splash into the fountain basin. She glared at him. "What do you think you’re doing?"
"Oh!" Water dripped from his hair as he stumbled to his feet. "Was this meant to be a secret mission?" His eyes widened. "But... the fame..."
"Idiot!" Xiulan grabbed his collar. "The mission isn’t secret, but I’m not advertising my movements or status as a cultivator. There are already too many rumors circulating!"
She shoved the reins back into Ren Chun’s hands. "And don’t abandon your horse! You need to care for her properly."
What have I gotten myself into? A knot formed in her stomach. Are all cultivators this... theatrical?
Qingfeng fit her idea of a wise cultivator, but this guy... he reminded her of a monkey!
"Why do we even need horses?" Ren Chun bounced on his heels. "If we sprint, we could reach the swamp much faster!"
"Some of us lack the endurance for such feats." Xiulan adjusted her pack. "We’ll ride to the edge village first, then continue on foot. Two days should suffice." Better to rush than endure three days of this nonsense.
"I could carry you in my arms for half the journey!" Ren Chun stretched out his arms demonstratively.
Xiulan gripped her spear tighter, fighting the urge to whack him. One day of training with Master Qingfeng couldn’t match years of whatever instruction this fool had received.
He’ll probably challenge me to—
"Do you want to spar? We could compete on the way!"
"We haven’t even left the city gates." Xiulan pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Ah, true." Ren Chun scratched his head. "It might disturb the people. Later perhaps?"
The immediate ’no’ died on Xiulan’s tongue. When will I get another chance to safely train with a more experienced cultivator? Her current skills wouldn’t suffice for what lay ahead.
"Sure." Xiulan mounted her horse. "After we make camp for the night."