Between her diamond wings, Huo Feng carried Wu Xin's drenched, battered body, the weight of his flesh pressing lightly against her, yet heavier than any stone. His soul, still lacerated by the fangs of the wandering spirits of the River of Oblivion, seemed to tremble in rhythm with her own heartbeat. Each pulse she felt beneath her fingers carried the echoes of pain and devotion, a resonance she could not ignore.
The air in the chamber was thick with lingering chill, as though the dark river itself had followed them, bringing with it the faint metallic tang of fear and sorrow. The silver light of her wings reflected off the walls, casting fractured patterns across the room, dancing like restless memories over the floor.
She laid him gently on the bed, careful, tender—like a mother tucking in a child. Her hands lingered a moment too long, feeling the warmth of his skin against her palms, the uneven rise and fall of his chest. Then she sat before him, silent. Not sorrowful, not joyful. But ignorant—ignorant of what her heart truly sought, what her hands were meant to do.
Did she truly wish to save him? And if so… why?
Wu Xin stirred, his eyelids fluttering like fragile leaves in a breeze. Pain etched every line of his face—pain of body, of soul, of betrayal and regret. He tried to lift himself, and she moved swiftly, hands trembling slightly as they steadied his shoulders, as if afraid to let him fall again.
"So… will you call the healer?" he murmured, voice ragged, lips curling into a faint, teasing smile. "Or just wait until it's too late?"
A faint glint of mischief appeared in his eyes, though his body betrayed the agony beneath. "Ah, perhaps you've become a healer yourself. Care to treat me? Come on." He extended his hand toward her, the gesture playful, yet laced with challenge.
Huo Feng blinked, her gaze wide, innocent, uncomprehending. This teasing, this lightness—it felt alien in the gravity of the river's aftermath.
"Do I need to be a doctor to heal you?" she asked softly, brows raised, childlike confusion painting her features.
At that moment, the Holy Physician arrived—summoned by Master Li's foresight. He entered with calm, measured steps, the air parting respectfully around him. His presence radiated a quiet warmth, a soft glow, like dawn breaking over a wintered field. His eyes carried wisdom tempered by patience and mercy.
Huo Feng stepped forward instinctively, one step… then another… until she stood directly before him. And then, without hesitation, she moved—passed through him. Like mist, like sunlight dispersing through clouds. The Holy Physician froze, for a fraction of a heartbeat—but felt nothing, recognized nothing.
Wu Xin and Master Li, however, were rooted to the spot, eyes wide, their silence louder than any exclamation.
But Huo Feng did not falter. She knew. For the first time, she had chosen. She did not fully understand what it meant to heal, but she understood intent—the desire to restore, to touch, to save. And she copied what she had seen, what she had known from the stories of Master Li and the rituals of care she had absorbed over years.
The Holy Physician began his work with meticulous precision. He took Wu Xin's pulse, then withdrew a case of golden needles, delicate and precise, their tips gleaming like captured sunbeams. Just as he prepared to insert one—
"Stop!" Huo Feng's voice sliced the quiet like a blade, trembling yet commanding.
The Physician halted, startled. She continued, firm and unyielding:"No! That needle will harm him. The spot you chose… it's tainted by the aura of evil spirits from the river."
His brow lifted in surprise. "And who might you be? A doctor?"
She smiled, playful, mischievous, eyes sparkling. "Yes. I am a doctor… I just graduated."
"Graduated? Just now? And who was your foolish teacher?" he asked, incredulous, tone tinged with curiosity.
Her lips curled into a teasing grin. "You."
He blinked, jaw slackening. "Me?!"
A quiet laugh escaped her. "Yes. You."
He opened his mouth—then froze, silence reclaiming the space. For a heartbeat, it seemed the air itself held its breath. His gaze shifted back to Wu Xin, feeling the pulse—something different, something… unfamiliar yet familiar.
After a long pause, he exhaled, calm returning. "Actually… you're right. Seems I taught you well. Forgive me, I forget faces easily… that's why I didn't recognize you."
He hesitated, letting his gaze linger. "But your voice… I've heard it before. Long ago… perhaps thousands of years ago. Yes… I heard it last… in the Sacred Chamber… or was it… the Punishment Grounds? I cannot recall."
Wu Xin and Master Li watched, unable to speak. Silence stretched between them like a living thing. Huo Feng remained, eyes clear and unflinching, a child who had wandered too far yet found her purpose.
"You… haven't aged… at all," the Physician whispered, awe lacing his tone.
Needles placed, he rose, slow and deliberate. "Take care of him, little doctor," he said gently. "Or perhaps… his lover?"
Huo Feng's head shook with innocent defiance. "No, not his lover. I'm his sweetheart!"
The Physician's laughter was soft, warm, a ripple across the quiet room. "You remind me of someone… once among us… then vanished. But who…?" He turned to leave, glancing at Master Li. "And you… has your condition improved?"
Li nodded silently, eyes gray as ash, betraying unspoken truths. The Physician placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Don't despair. I'm certain you'll find your cure… someday. Perhaps… through her."
The door closed, and Huo Feng's gaze followed him, lingering on the retreating figure until only the soft echo of footsteps remained.
Then, with a sudden, playful impulse, she spun toward Master Li, leaping at him like a mischievous child. She caught his hand—this time, not to feel flesh, but the pulse of spirit.
He yanked his hand back sharply, as if her touch had ignited some long-buried flame. "Don't… please," he murmured.
She only laughed, persistent, triumphant: "You should be honored! You'll be my first patient. Let me help… just as you've always helped me."
Master Li's face flushed, not just with embarrassment, but with a warmth he could not name. Wu Xin, still recovering, turned red too—rage mingled with unspoken gratitude.
Huo Feng tried again, gripping Li's wrist as if refusing to release a cherished toy. This time, he did not resist. He looked at her silently, eyes softened, something new stirring within—soft, dangerous, alive.
Her gaze sharpened suddenly, breath catching. "When… did you lose a part of it? Your soul?"
He covered her hand with his, pressing it gently to his lips, eyes closing briefly. A whisper escaped:
"You?!"
Then silence.
No words. No sound. Only three souls—one buried in sorrow, one lost in memory, and one… falling once more into mystery.