The next morning, Li Meili and Pan Jiaying set out for Lushan, having spent most of the night working out plans and contingencies. Yoshika was surprised by Li Meili’s decision to stay manifested for as long as possible, but respected it without any argument. For his part, Luo Mingyu began work on the elixir, explaining that there was much he could do to prepare before they produced the hundred-year-old ginseng to complete it.

“Isn’t your sect going to notice you’re gone?”

The alchemist shrugged at Li Meili’s question.

“Surely they will, but it’s not unusual for inner disciples to come and go, within reason. Most sects are fairly hands-off unless someone goes and loses them face by misusing their name. You worry about yourselves. Whatever it is you’re up to—which, by the way, I have no knowledge of or part in—is certainly going to draw more attention than my absence.”

So it was just Li Meili and Pan Jiaying alone against an entire sect of cultivators, the master of which maintained a constant surveillance technique.

“Are you sure he’s not going to notice what we’re up to?”

Pan Jiaying scratched her cheek awkwardly.

“Well, no. But it should be fine. Master Qiao Quan is always looking but he’s not always paying attention. He can see everything, but that doesn’t mean he’ll notice. A bit of low-level trade should be beneath his notice, and you’re already cleared as a guest. I don’t think he’ll care.”

“You’d know better than me. But if he does notice...”

She waved Li Meili’s concerns off.

“Yes, yes. I’m aware of the plan. I don’t like it, though.”

“You agreed that it was the best option.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it. In any case, if all goes well, we won’t need to worry about it.”

Li Meili frowned.

“It’s been my experience that most plans fall apart almost as soon as you try to implement them. Don’t assume that anything is going to go well—much less everything.”

“Your experience, or Yoshika’s?”

“I’m still not used to thinking of us as different, but both. Things kind of fell apart yesterday, you might recall.”

Pan Jiaying nodded in acknowledgement.

“Fair enough. I just don’t want to assume everything’s going to be a disaster.”

Before Li Meili could comment, a shudder ran down her back as she entered Qiao Quan’s domain.

“We’re almost there.”

Pan Jiaying straightened up. The innocuous comment was one that they’d worked out beforehand as a signal. From that point forward, they would act under the assumption that they were being watched.

They continued to make small talk as they ascended the mountain. Nobody stopped them as they entered the town or approached the outer gate leading into the sect. Pan Jiaying held a small keystone to the gate and with a brief pulse of her qi, it opened of its own accord to allow them in.

As they made it all the way back to Pan Jiaying’s home and sat down for tea, Li Meili allowed herself to relax, just a fraction. Things were going surprisingly well, so far.

“Would you stop pacing? You’re throwing off my concentration.”

Lee Jia scowled down at Luo Mingyu. True to his word, the alchemist had begun sorting through her wealth of magical herbs and was going through the apparently quite arduous process of refining them into something usable for his elixir.

“No. I’m nervous, and moving around helps me stay calm. What about you? You’ve been remarkably calm about all this. I’m surprised you’re not holding a grudge after last night.”

Luo Mingyu chuckled.

“It’s not the first scrap I’ve been in, Miss Li. Unlike most of my peers, I awakened relatively late in life—the advantages of using an alchemical solution to cleanse my meridians. I grew up mortal like you.”

Jia narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“What makes you think I did?”

“It’s pretty obvious, when you know how to look. You play the game well, but like me it was something you learned rather than something you live and breathe.”

“The game?”

He nodded, setting a bundle of herbs in the center of a small extraction formation and concentrating for a moment. Once the spell was active, he returned his attention to Jia.

“It’s not an official name or anything. It’s how I refer to the way cultivators interact with each other. I’ve never understood why they do it, but you either learn to play along or you get left behind in every conversation.”

“Tsk. Only Qin cultivators do that. I learned it from them, so your theory doesn’t hold up.”

Luo Mingyu shrugged.

“Am I wrong, though? Call it an intuition—you just don’t seem the type.”

Lee Jia inclined her head in concession.

“No, you’re right. I was fifteen when I first awakened.”

He whistled.

“Younger than I was, but still quite old. How’d you manage that?”

“It’s a secret. I think it’s the empathy.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Jia nodded vaguely in the direction of the mountain.

“The ‘game.’ You awakened late, so you should know what I’m talking about. You can sense people’s emotions in a way that you couldn’t before, right?”

“Vaguely, yes.”

“That gets stronger the more you cultivate. Most mortals don’t just say every last thing that comes to mind, they keep things to themselves either out of politeness or self-preservation. That’s a lot harder to do when everyone can sense each other’s thoughts.”

Luo Mingyu rolled his eyes.

“You’re being rather dramatic. It’s just a vague feeling—not even reliable most of the time.”

Yoshika focused on his face for a short second, taking in every twitch and blink and letting her intuition guide her as she spoke.

“You’re scared of me, but also fascinated. Outwardly, you’re expressing doubts, but you think I’m making a surprising amount of sense and it’s causing you to reevaluate some of your past experiences. You think I’m attractive, but you’re having second thoughts because this speech is creeping you—”

“Okay! Stop! I get it. Emperor take me, that’s horrifying. So all the obfuscation is...what, just an extra layer of confusion to keep our peers from doing...that?”

Jia shrugged.

“Probably. It’s just a theory. I might be a bit better at it than average, though—Meili at least has trouble with it for some reason. I’m not interested, by the way.”

Luo Mingyu sighed.

“Nor am I. Looking is one thing, but courting you would be no different than courting death.”

Eui smiled sinisterly from behind him.

“You can say that again.”

Luo Mingyu jumped then scowled at her.

“Miss Jing, if you weren’t so...menacing, perhaps I’d find you just as attractive.”

She snickered.

“Thanks, I work hard on that.”

Jia ignored Luo Mingyu’s confused grimace and turned to Eui.

“How’s Li Zhen?”

“Resting for now. This elixir had better work, because she’s rapidly growing more dependent on regular treatments. At this rate I’ll be permanently glued to her within a month just to keep her breathing.”

Luo Mingyu grunted.

“The fact that you’ve kept her going this long is already nothing short of miraculous. Don’t expect too much of me, though. Even after the elixir, you’ll still need to treat her regularly if you want to maximize its effects. An extra year at best—and only under optimal conditions. It won’t work a second time, either.”

Eui snorted.

“Yeah, I get it—you suck. Just handle your part and we’ll handle ours.”

He sputtered indignantly.

“Wh—you—most of my colleagues wouldn’t even be able to do this! They’re all obsessed with cultivation aids and qi refining pills. Medicine is a lost art among cultivators.”

Jia shook her head and sighed.

“Ignore her. We appreciate what you’re doing for us. Although—why are you helping us? Even if you’re not holding a grudge for the fight, I would have expected you to be a lot more reluctant.”

“Two reasons. First, it’s refreshing to have someone demand this particular side of my skills. Most cultivators think my continued pursuit of medicine is a waste of time that could be better spent empowering myself, or better yet—them. The other reason is much more self-serving—I’m holding out hope that either you or your sponsors will see fit to pay me handsomely for my services. Pan Jiaying isn’t the only one with debts, you know.”

Jia chuckled. She did hope she would be able to pay Luo Mingyu back adequately, but she had a limited supply of cores and crystals remaining after giving Li Meili enough to purchase some spiritual ginseng, and she doubted he would be satisfied with some of the Yan clan’s gold.

Before she could consider further negotiations, she sensed two figures approaching within her domain. Li Meili and Pan Jiaying were running up the hill at full speed. Yoshika tensed, preparing herself for immediate violence—a fighting retreat back towards Master Ienaga would—

She relaxed when she saw the smiles on their faces and heard the two of them giggling happily. They crested the hill, waving the innocuous little root filled to the brim with powerful qi.

“We did it!”

Li Meili giggled excitedly.

“I can’t believe everything worked out just fine. It was too easy. I was sweating the entire time on the way back, but nobody even looked at us twice.”

Pan Jiaying grinned proudly.

“I told you! Nobody pays that much attention to the outer gardens.”

Meili groaned, covering her face.

“Ugh, I’m so embarrassed! I was so ready to sacrifice myself to save you in case—”

Everyone froze as a powerful, oppressive aura swept across the hill. The bright sunny day suddenly descended into a hazy gray fog. Luo Mingyu went pale as the mists started to coalesce into a tall bearded figure—the same one that Li Meili had seen at the entrance to the sect.

“Oh fuck!”

The old master scowled at his disciple and stroked his long gray beard.

“I thought we’d beaten that peasant language out of you by now, Luo Mingyu. Clearly, the sect has been far too lax with you. You have, however, proven yourself quite valuable. You have earned the opportunity to plead for your life.”

Yoshika swallowed nervously. The positioning was terrible. She could sense that the figure before her was not an illusion. Sect Master Qiao Quan was before them, in the flesh—a xiantian cultivator. Escape was the only option, but they were too scattered. Jung was still asleep under the shade of the peach tree, while Li Meili and Pan Jiaying were in the opposite direction on the other side of Qiao Quan.

Worse, Heian still hadn’t recovered from their last major encounter and Yoshika wasn’t entirely confident in her ability to replicate Lee Hei’s shadow steps without her. It was, in other words, the absolute worst case scenario. While she frantically tried to find a way out, Luo Mingyu found his words.

“Master, thank you for your mercy. I can explain everything.”

Yoshika had no doubt that the alchemist would protect himself. He had no reason to try to cover for them, and any attempt to do so would only add his own corpse to the inevitable pile. She only hoped that he would at least find it in himself to plead Pan Jiaying’s case as well.

“These people came to request my services as an apothecary. As you know, I’ve continued to study medicine since joining the sect. It is a doctor’s duty to provide succor to the meek, as our mighty emperor commands. I could not bring myself to turn down their request.”

Qiao Quan scowled and narrowed his eyes.

“Luo Mingyu, these are not people. They are beasts. The barbarous creatures of the untamed wilds are not subject to the Empire’s protection—they are the very things we are sworn to protect the great people of Qin from.”

“I thought so as well, master. But after meeting them myself, there is no doubt in my mind that they are people like any other. As a doctor, I will not refuse them aid.”

All Yoshika could do was stand and stare in shock. She had completely misjudged Luo Mingyu—and she now felt awful for assuming the worst of him. Not that it mattered much. As honorable as his decision was, it wasn’t the correct one. Qiao Quan sneered angrily.

“Then you have chosen death. What a pitiful waste of talent.”

He raised a hand, then whirled around as a rift in space suddenly opened behind him. Before he could finish reacting, a red blur flew from the portal and severed his head in a flash of silver. Pan Jiaying screamed, but Master Ienaga wasn’t finished. She gripped Qiao Quan’s headless body by the front of his robes with her free hand and twisted, throwing him over her shoulder and slamming him to the ground with enough force to leave a crater.

Even when facing down demons, Yoshika had never seen such a grim expression on her mentor. Master Ienaga spun her sword around to reverse its grip and held it up high. Her lips didn’t move and she made no sound, but Yoshika felt something resonate deep within her that understood her Master’s unspoken words.

Sacred Art: Soul Destruction.

Ienaga’s sword plunged deep into Qiao Quan’s stomach, striking at something beyond the physical. Yoshika felt a piece of the world snap, and the oppressive aura vanished. The fog burned away under the sunlight, parting as if it had never been.

Seong Misun stepped through the portal as it closed behind her, surveying the scene with uncharacteristically cold eyes.

“Playtime is over, girls. We’re leaving—now!”