Ten minutes earlier.
Mountain of the Four Tributaries — The Caves
The doors swung open simultaneously. Yan Li stepped out, her envelope clutched tightly against her chest, with Wei Lian right behind her. The cold mountain wind met them in absolute silence.
Yan Li looked at the envelope, then at Wei Lian. — Let's open them.
Her hands shook as she tore the seal. The paper unfolded on its own, and glowing letters began to manifest:
"Wang Tao is dying.The talisman inside will lead you to him.Every choice has consequences.Use it or don't.— Sai"
Yan Li read it once—the letters didn't change. She read it again—they were still there. "Dying." The word echoed in her mind. Her hands began to tremble violently; the paper slipped through her fingers.
— No... — her voice was a ghost of a sound.
Wei Lian was reading his own, then looked at her. — Yan Li...
She didn't hear him. She looked at the plateau—empty. — TAO?! — she screamed. Nothing. She ran to his cave—empty. She sprinted back. — TAO, WHERE ARE YOU?!
Her voice broke. Wei Lian tried to grab her arm. — Yan Li, calm down—
She wrenched herself free. — CALM DOWN?! — tears streamed down her face. — HE IS DYING!
Her breathing was erratic, bordering on panic. — He went out alone, fighting alone, and I... I was in here PAINTING! — her voice turned into a raw shriek. — WHILE HE WAS DYING, I WAS HERE DOING NOTHING!
She collapsed to her knees, sobbing.
Wei Lian stood still, the weight of the moment pinning him to the spot. Finally, he said what was on his mind:
— Yan Li, Wang Tao chose to go alone. He doesn't want us involved. If we go, we might die too.
Silence. Yan Li stopped crying and lifted her face. Her eyes were red, but something within them had shifted.
— And if I don't go — she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous chill — he dies alone.
Wei Lian swallowed hard. — But—
— Alone, Wei Lian — she repeated. — Without anyone. Without knowing that... that someone... — her voice faltered, then she drew a sharp breath. — Without knowing that someone cares.
Tears fell, but she did not look away. — I care. A pause. — I love him.
The word was out: naked, raw, and true. Wei Lian's eyes widened.
Yan Li continued: — And if he dies without knowing that... I will never forgive myself.
She stood up, still trembling, but standing tall. — So, I'm going.
Wei Lian took a step forward. — Yan Li, you could die—
— I KNOW! — she screamed.
Silence followed. She breathed, calmer now, but absolute in her resolve. — I know I could die. I know I am weak. I know I might not be able to save him. But I have to try.
She looked at her shaking hands and clenched them into fists. — Because if I don't go, if I stay here safe and afraid... then I am nothing.
The air around them shifted. Wei Lian felt it: a soft but mounting pressure. — Yan Li...?
She closed her eyes. Master, you said the soul grows when we stop running. She remembered Sai's voice, disinterested as always: "The soul reveals the hidden within you. What you hide is what you are."
Yan Li took a deep breath. I always ran. Ran from being weak. Ran from admitting I need them. Ran from saying I love him. She opened her eyes. — No more.
The Qi around her exploded—not violently, but like a warm, welcoming wave. The world seemed to tremble. Wei Lian backed away. — Yan Li, your Qi...!
She looked at her hands. Something was moving deep within her chest. It wasn't pain; it was liberation. Her trapped soul—once a murky, melancholic violet—began to swirl like ink in water, clearing and brightening.
Blue appeared—not staining the violet, but healing it. Gold emerged in soft streaks like sunlight. And then: Form.
In her hands, light solidified. A handle of spiritual wood, bristles made of pure energy. A brush—one that didn't paint with ink, but with the very essence of the soul.
Yan Li gripped it and knew: Third Level. Soul Form. Not because she had simply become stronger, but because she had chosen: chosen to feel even if it hurt, chosen to go even if she was afraid, and chosen to love even knowing she could lose.
She looked at Wei Lian. There were no more tears, only iron determination. — I'm going.
Wei Lian remained silent, looking at her, then at his own envelope. He took a deep breath. — Damn it...
When he opened his eyes, wooden threads were already rising. — Then you aren't going alone.
Yan Li smiled—small, but genuine.
She raised the brush and painted in the air: broad, sky-blue strokes, every movement charged with emotion. Wings formed—large and soft; a bird's body, a beak, eyes that seemed alive.
The bird beat its wings and let out a cry—droplets of luminous ink fell as if it felt exactly what she felt: pain, fear, love, and resolve. Yan Li climbed on; Wei Lian followed. The bird took flight.
And Yan Li whispered softly, almost to herself: — Hold on, Tao. I'm coming.
---
Mountain of the Four Tributaries — Lower Grove
Yan Li saw Wang Tao on the ground, then the Shadow. Something shifted in her eyes. — Get away from our brother.
The circle of fire still raged. In the center, Wang Tao lay broken: his breathing ragged, skin charred, clothes soaked in dried blood.
The Shadow recoiled half a step, eyes analyzing the situation. Three Qi Absorption cultivators and an ink bird? What kind of technique is this? The assassin stared at Yan Li and her brush—for a second, greed flashed in the Shadow's eyes.
But then, hesitation. The wall of fire was stable for now, but it was draining Qi by the second. The Shadow's body was poisoned, burned, exhausted—and worst of all, the artifact was dead. The assassin calculated the odds.
Yan Li stepped forward, the brush trembling slightly in her hand. Wei Lian positioned himself beside her, wooden threads raised like blades. Wang Tao struggled to sit up.
— You... — his voice was a rasp. — What are you doing here?!
Anger, fear, and guilt swirled in his voice. — I told you not to get involved! This wasn't supposed to include you!
Wei Lian answered without taking his eyes off the Shadow: — And you thought you were going to die alone?
Yan Li didn't speak. She simply stared the assassin down without a hint of fear.
The Shadow spun the chains—not to attack, but to create a screen. The circle of fire detonated.
BOOM.
Smoke, heat, and chaos filled the air. When it cleared, the assassin was gone.
Wang Tao tried to stand. — NO... — he coughed up blood. — DON'T LET HER ESCAPE!
If she escaped, she would report everything. The Invisible Hand would know. And he...
Yan Li didn't hesitate. She leaped back onto the bird. — YAN LI! — Wei Lian's voice broke.
But it was too late. The bird was already cutting through the sky, its blue wings glowing in pursuit.
---
Wei Lian looked at Wang Tao: wounded, bleeding, burned. — You're going to...
Wang Tao gripped his shoulder. His fingers, like wet ink, painted Wei Lian's clothes with blood. — I'll survive — his voice was firm. — Now, how did you...? And Yan Li... that bird?
Wei Lian didn't answer immediately. He looked at the envelope in his hands and handed it to Wang Tao—open. Wang Tao took the paper, once white, now stained red by his own blood.
His expression turned to one of pure shock.