The twilight had descended upon the Xiao Clan, painting the white stone walls in hues of burning orange and deep violet.
They stood at the entrance of the female dormitory courtyard. It was a restricted area for most male disciples, but Yoriichi had walked her to the gate out of courtesy.
Xiao Xun'er stopped, her hand resting on the wooden door. She turned slightly, the dying sunlight catching the golden flecks in her eyes, making them shimmer with an intelligence that betrayed her innocent appearance.
"Cousin Xiao Ning," she said, her voice soft and melodious. "Good night. It was a pleasant chat."
Yoriichi paused, his hands tucked into his sleeves. He looked at her—really looked at her—with his calm, discerning gaze.
"Pleasant?" he thought, a dry amusement touching his mind. "It was an interrogation wrapped in silk. Every question was a probe, every answer a shield. It was a conversation full of diplomatic daggers."
But he nodded, his face betraying none of his thoughts.
"Sure," Yoriichi replied simply. "Take care. Good night."
He didn't linger. He turned and began the walk back to his infirmary, which was located in a quieter, more secluded part of the estate.
As he walked away, the smile on Xun'er's face slowly faded, replaced by a contemplative look. She watched his back until he disappeared around the corner.
"He didn't even look back once," she mused. "Interesting."
The walk to the infirmary took ten minutes. Yoriichi moved through the shadows of the estate, his mind already shifting from the intellectual battlefield of the library to the physical reality of his training.
As he approached his private courtyard, the sky had turned a dark, bruised purple. The first stars were struggling to shine through the twilight mist.
Yoriichi stopped five meters from his gate.
His instincts, honed by the Selfless State, flared.
He sensed an aura inside his room. It wasn't the hidden, stealthy presence of the Shadow Guard, nor was it the warm, paternal presence of his Grandfather.
It was fiery. It was volatile. It felt like a pot of water boiling over, radiating a mix of intense frustration, worry, and suppressed rage.
"Big Sister," Yoriichi realized instantly, a small sigh escaping his lips. "She saw the tree."
He knew he couldn't avoid this. He had been reckless leaving the evidence of his training out in the open, but he hadn't expected her to visit so late.
He pushed the gate open.
Creeeeak.
He walked across the courtyard. He didn't look at the destroyed ironwood tree in the corner, though he could feel its silent accusation. He stepped onto the veranda and slid the door to his room open.
The room was lit by a single oil lamp.
Sitting on the edge of his bed was Xiao Yu.
She wasn't in her training gear anymore. She wore a simple, casual robe, her long legs crossed, her hands gripping her knees so hard her knuckles were white. Her head was bowed, her hair shadowing her face.
When the door opened, she snapped her head up.
Her expression was furious. Her eyes were red-rimmed, shimmering with unshed tears that she was fighting desperately to hold back.
"You..."
Her voice trembled. It wasn't the loud, bossy shout she usually used. It was a low, choked sound that hurt to hear.
"Why so reckless?" Xiao Yu whispered, standing up abruptly. She pointed a shaking finger towards the courtyard. "You just nearly destroyed that tree. And with this state? With a body that just recovered from being bedridden? You..."
Yoriichi closed the door behind him, shutting out the cold wind. He didn't speak. He knew that anything he said right now would be an excuse.
Xiao Yu marched up to him. She grabbed his left hand—the one wrapped in the fresh bandages he had applied that morning.
"Show me," she demanded.
Yoriichi didn't resist. He let her lift his hand.
"Unwrap it."
He hesitated for a second, then obeyed. He slowly unraveled the white cloth.
The bandages fell away, revealing the knuckles underneath.
They were a mess. The skin was raw, scabbing over in angry red patches. The flesh was bruised purple and blue from the internal hemorrhaging caused by the impact. Though the Jade Marrow Pill and his own vitality were healing it fast, it still looked brutal. It looked like he had put his hands through a meat grinder.
Xiao Yu gasped. Her breath hitched in her throat.
She held his hand, her own fingers trembling violently. She traced the edge of the bruise, terrified of hurting him further.
"You feel pain," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I know you do. You aren't made of stone, Ning'er. This madness... why?"
She looked up at him, and the dam broke. The tears she had been holding back spilled over, tracking hot paths down her cheeks.
"I am sure you broke the tree until your hands bled," she cried, her voice rising in pitch. "That's why you were covering it. That's why you acted so distant at the training ground. You are hurting yourself! Do you think getting strong means destroying your body? Do you think I want a strong brother if he is a cripple?"
Yoriichi stood there, silent. He watched her cry. He watched the genuine, raw fear in her eyes—fear not for herself, but for him.
In his past life, he had been alone for so long. His brother had abandoned him for power. His wife had died before he could save her. He had walked the path of the Sun alone, carrying the weight of the world.
But here... here, someone was crying because his hands were bruised.
It softened the iron around his heart.
He slowly raised his uninjured right hand.
He reached out and gently brushed the tears from her cheek with his thumb. The motion was clumsy, but infinitely tender.
Xiao Yu froze, her sob catching in her throat.
Yoriichi stepped closer. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.
It wasn't a tight, constricting hug. It was gentle, a solid wall of warmth enveloping her trembling form. He rested his chin lightly on top of her head, his hand petting her hair in a rhythmic, soothing motion.
"I am sorry," Yoriichi whispered into her hair. "I made you worry."
Xiao Yu stiffened for a second, then melted. She buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching the back of his robe. She cried, letting out all the frustration and fear of the past few days—the fear of the arena, the fear of the rumors, the fear of seeing him change so drastically.