In the residence of the venerable Bi Hua, silence draped over the room like a heavy, comforting cloak. Only Wu Xin's uneven breaths punctuated the stillness—sometimes shallow and rebellious, sometimes surrendering quietly to the darkness around him.
The dim light of dawn crept through the window, pooling faintly on the floor and illuminating his pale face, pale as the moon's last sigh before fading into morning. His eyes were sunken, yet deep within flickered a faint, unwavering light—not the light of vitality, but of contentment. Contentment of a man who realized he had not lost everything, for he had been granted something far more precious than strength: the genuine concern of someone who truly cared for him.
Huo Feng leaned over him gently, her fingertips brushing the wound on his shoulder, tracing the scars that had been carved by battles and fate alike. Suddenly, her eyes widened, pure, clear joy bursting inside her like the first drop of rain after a long drought.
He had opened his eyes.
"Wu Xin!" Her voice trembled, stifled within her chest before it finally broke free, carrying every ounce of relief she had kept hidden. Something deep within him stirred. For a fleeting moment, he existed in that small happiness, silent, but wholly alive.
Naive as always, unfiltered and direct, Huo Feng broke the fragile quiet:"Are you… happy? Happy that I feared for you?"
Wu Xin lifted his hand slowly, the motion weighted with unspoken centuries, and placed his fingers on her cheek. His touch was gentle, deliberate, like a warm cat seeking a familiar embrace. Then he smiled.
"Yes."
His voice was faint, broken by the fragile honesty that hung between them:"I never thought… that I could feel happiness while seeing you like this… sad."
He paused, and exhaled a truth that seemed to settle deep in her bones:"Sad… for me."
Her heart stumbled. Heat rose to her cheeks like almond blossoms daring to bloom too soon. She turned away, fleeing the intimacy of the moment—from the confession he hadn't spoken, yet she felt with piercing clarity.
"I—I was thinking… about the parasite," she blurted, voice clipped, eyes avoiding his. "I know how to destroy it now."
Wu Xin tilted his head, watching her—not her words, but the flush on her face, the subtle quiver of her pulse beneath her skin.
"How?"
Huo Feng drew a long, steadying breath, as if shaping courage into steel:"I must manifest poison with poison. I must find the parasite's natural predator… I have sensed it within me. If I can seize the creature that feeds on it, I can strike it—and let it devour the parasite until it vanishes."
A quiet moment passed, heavy and expectant. Then, Wu Xin laughed. Not loudly, not carelessly—a quiet, almost tender laugh. The laugh of a man witnessing the rise of someone far stronger, far sharper than he had imagined.
"Your tongue has grown bold," he said softly."And sharp."
Huo Feng blinked, startled by the weight of the praise.
He looked directly into her eyes."You've changed… after all those trials."
She could not tell if his words carried pride—or fear. Perhaps both.
Before she could respond, another voice fell upon them, gentle and warm, familiar beyond sound—a voice that seemed to bend time itself with its existence:
"But if you leave to seek that poison… your failure in all examinations will be recorded immediately."
The air froze. She turned. Master Li stood at the doorway, draped in white robes, radiating a calm that felt like spring sunlight spilling over a quiet river. A subtle light filled the room simply because he was there. Huo Feng smiled—a rare, unguarded smile. This was the smile of a wanderer who had finally found home. Joy, wild and luminous, danced in her eyes. A mysterious blue glimmer flickered in Master Li's gaze, profound and enigmatic, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
"What you seek," he said, voice calm yet heavy, "exists in the most dangerous realm: the Shadow Kingdom."
But Huo Feng's happiness did not waver. It grew brighter, untamed—like a child discovering the threshold of a secret world. Master Li did not know why. Wu Xin did. She sought two goals at once: the cure for the parasite, and the search for Shu Shu and little Fu.
"Can you describe the creature? Where can I find it?" she asked boldly, as was her way.
Two voices answered as one: "No."
Fear passed between them, shared and unspoken. Huo Feng arched an eyebrow, resisting a small laugh."Wu Xin… you're injured. I cannot allow you to travel. I will go with Master Li."
Again, the refusal came as one voice. Their hearts spoke in perfect unison. But the difference was clear: Wu Xin feared for her safety… Master Li feared for something else, something hidden from all eyes but his own.
Huo Feng exhaled, steady and resolute:"I have decided. I will go. You may accompany me—if you insist."
Wu Xin's silence was not weakness—it was acknowledgment. Nothing could stop her.
Master Li, however, was different. Huo Feng fixed her gaze upon him, unwavering:"What are you hiding… Master?"
He turned away, eyes following something beyond the walls, beyond the sky."The place you seek lies on sacred, forbidden ground. Only those of royal blood may traverse it… or rather, only for them does the path open."
Huo Feng inhaled sharply, a thrill striking her like the arrow's center point:"Then the matter is solved!"
Li's voice was soft, tinged with bitterness:"Do you truly believe so?"
"Yes," she said confidently. "Because you are of that bloodline. Otherwise, the Shadow Kingdom would not have stirred anything within me."
He remained silent for a long moment. Finally:"But it is not that simple. There is an enemy there… an enemy who has waited long for me. I do not wish to awaken him… nor approach him unprepared."
Silence thickened, heavy and inevitable. Huo Feng's shoulders sank slightly. Her eyes lowered, voice quiet yet determined:"He must be strong…"
"I am… truly sorry, Master."
"I am the reason you are weak now."
"But I promise… I will heal you soon."
"After this task…"
"…or perhaps after the next one."
Her words hung in the air like a vow carved in stone. A doorway to a destiny that would allow no return.
