The dark, winding tunnels of the Undercity became their fleeting sanctuary. With Ren's shadow arts masking their trail, the small, battered group moved swiftly towards a secret exit on the city's southern fringe. Their first priority was to retrieve their new acquisitions. A silent, coded message sent via Ren's shadow weavers reached the inn, and by the time their party emerged into the cool night air in a secluded patch of woods, their three new companions were waiting, guarded by the other discreet members of Xue Lian's intelligence unit.
The sight that greeted the three mythical beings was a shocking one. Their new mistress, the magnificent and terrifyingly wealthy woman who had bought them with the casual air of someone purchasing fruit, was now leaning heavily on her 'cat slave,' her face pale as death, her arm clutched to a dark, smoking wound that seemed to devour the very light around it.
Chang Li, the fiery Fenghuang, stared, her usual defiance replaced by a stunned disbelief. Hysilens, the timid mermaid, let out a soft gasp of fear. It was Gan Yu, the Qilin, who reacted first. She stepped forward, her regal calm instantly shifting into the focused alertness of a true protector.
"Your Majesty is wounded," she stated, her voice a low, urgent hum. "The energy is corrupting. Allow me to lend my purifying qi."
"No," Lan Yue's voice was sharp, stepping in front of Xue Lian protectively. "It is not a demonic or spiritual poison. It is of the Void. Your energy would only be consumed."
They found a temporary, hidden camp in a deep, ancient forest grove to rest and tend to their wounded Empress before beginning the long, perilous journey home. As Lan Yue carefully cleansed the edges of the Void wound, the pain, which Xue Lian had been suppressing with pure, imperial will, finally broke through her control.
Her body, this powerful, demonic vessel she had inhabited for over a decade, had known battle and exertion, but never this kind of intimate, invasive, soul deep agony. She clenched her jaw, a low groan escaping her lips as she clutched her head, which was now throbbing in sympathy with the wound.
"Shitttttttt," she hissed through gritted teeth, the 21st century expletive a jarring sound in the ancient forest. Her commanders, Jax and Ren, froze in shock. Her three new companions stared, utterly baffled. This was not the language of a serene, immortal noble.
"It's the first time I've been wounded in this godforsaken world," Xue Lian growled, her eyes squeezed shut. "It hurts like absolute shit."
The raw, undignified, and deeply human complaint hung in the air. The mythical Empress had vanished, replaced for a moment by a woman in a great deal of pain.
A faint, sad smile touched Lan Yue's lips. She looked at her lover, her heart aching with a fierce, protective tenderness. It was clear Xue Lian could not travel on her own two feet.
"I can carry her Majesty," Jax, the hulking demon commander, offered immediately.
"No," Lan Yue said, her voice soft but firm, leaving no room for argument. "I will."
Before Xue Lian could protest, Lan Yue gently but securely scooped her into her arms. The position was instantly, achingly familiar. Xue Lian, dazed with pain, looked up into Lan Yue's serene, determined face.
"It's my turn," Lan Yue whispered, a direct, poignant echo of the night of the festival. "Just try not to be as drunk this time."
And so, their desperate flight began. They were a strange and motley procession: a celestial saint carrying a wounded demon empress, flanked by two elite demonic commanders, and followed by a trio of legendary mythical beasts who had, in the span of a single day, gone from slaves to fugitives in a royal court.
Lan Yue did not falter. For days, she carried Xue Lian, her restored celestial power a deep, seemingly endless well of stamina. She was the unwavering center of their group, a beacon of calm resolve. Ren wove a constant tapestry of illusions and misdirection behind them, hiding their trail from the hunters she knew would be coming. Jax was their ever vigilant shield, his eyes scanning every shadow.
The journey was a blur of exhaustion and fear, but it was also one of strange, profound bonding. Gan Yu, Chang Li, and Hysilens saw a different kind of royalty not of command and wealth, but of sacrifice and unwavering loyalty. They saw a Saint who would carry her wounded lover across a continent, and an Empress who, even in her delirium, would whisper tactical advice and worry for their safety.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the snow dusted peaks of the Dragon's Tooth mountains. Before them, nestled between two jagged cliffs, stood the hidden, shimmering gateway of the Whispering Pass.
They were battered, they were weary, and they were being hunted. But they were together. They had the evidence that could shatter a conspiracy. And they were almost home.
Lan Yue, still carrying her precious burden, took the first step through the portal, leaving the hostile mortal realm behind and returning to the dark, waiting safety of their own.