"Bring them!"
Camila's voice echoed through the camp.
The first light of dawn had only begun to filter through the dense canopy when the bandits opened the cages and dragged the prisoners outside.
Ciel stumbled forward as the chain around her wrists was pulled.
She had not slept.
Her eyes burned. Her body felt heavy. Dirt covered her clothes and dried blood stained her fingers from digging through the ground during the night.
Every movement made the flesh beneath her broken nails sting.
Yet she forced herself to remain awake.
She forced herself to look.
Yesterday, she would have lowered her head.
Yesterday, she might have believed that being obedient and unnoticed would keep her safe.
That illusion had disappeared.
William had been strong.
Jonathan had carried a sword.
Neither had been able to protect them.
If another opportunity appeared, even for a single breath, Ciel knew she could not afford to miss it.
So she watched.
How many bandits remained awake.
Where their weapons were.
Where the horses had been tied.
Which direction the road lay.
Where the forest became thick enough to hide someone.
None of those things meant she had a plan.
But doing nothing meant waiting for someone else to decide her fate.
And Ciel no longer wanted to do that.
Beside her, Yunior walked silently.
His usually pale face looked almost gray.
Neither of them spoke.
At the center of the camp stood the woman Ciel had heard the bandits call Crimson Flower Camila.
Camila wore tight black leather trousers and a short crimson garment covering her chest. A long red whip rested around her waist.
Her dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders.
Her appearance was almost elegant.
Beautiful, even.
That somehow made her more frightening.
Camila walked slowly before the prisoners.
Not as if examining people.
As if inspecting merchandise.
"This one."
She grabbed a young man by the jaw.
"Merchant family?"
The boy nodded desperately.
"My father owns three warehouses in Orione! He can pay! Please, if you send someone—"
"Good."
Camila released him.
"Then you're worth more alive."
The young man's expression brightened for only a moment before two bandits dragged him aside.
Camila moved on.
She inspected another prisoner.
"Too thin."
Another.
"Strong shoulders. Sell him for labor."
Another.
"That one is injured."
"Still walking," a bandit answered.
"Then he's still worth something."
Ciel felt something cold settle in her stomach.
Camila spoke about them exactly as merchants spoke about horses.
Eventually, she stopped in front of Yunior.
She raised his chin with one finger.
"What a pretty face."
Yunior remained completely still.
Camila looked him over.
"Boy or girl?"
Several bandits laughed.
Yunior clenched his fists.
Camila smiled faintly before moving on.
Then she stopped in front of Ciel.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Ciel could smell alcohol on the woman's breath mixed with something floral.
Camila's eyes lowered toward her hands.
"Trying to dig your way out?"
Ciel's heartbeat stopped.
She said nothing.
Camila grabbed one of her wrists and inspected the bloody fingers.
"Smart."
Ciel resisted the urge to pull away.
Camila released her.
"Stupid."
A faint smile appeared.
"But smart."
Her gaze briefly moved across Ciel's clothes.
For an instant, it stopped on the bronze-green ring wrapped around her finger.
The pearl no longer glowed.
Covered in dirt, it looked more like an old ornament than a treasure.
Camila quickly lost interest.
"Separate the better-looking ones," she ordered. "We'll leave before noon."
A bandit nodded.
"And the rest?"
"Kill anyone who slows us down."
Ciel's breathing stopped.
Camila had said it casually.
Almost lazily.
Then—
Quack.
Camila frowned.
One of the bandits looked upward.
Quack!
Another joined him.
A flock of wild ducks burst above the treetops.
At first Ciel thought nothing of it.
Then Yunior whispered,
"What is that?"
Something was flying among them.
No.
Someone.
A man stood upon a sword.
Or at least he was attempting to.
The sword streaked through the sky while its passenger swayed dangerously from side to side.
He held a large clay wine jar against his chest with one arm while lazily trying to wave the ducks away with the other.
"Go..."
His distant voice reached the camp.
"Go bother someone else..."
A duck struck him directly in the face.
The man's body disappeared from the sword.
The sword continued onward.
The man did not.
Everyone below watched in silence.
"...What?" one bandit muttered.
The falling figure smashed through branches.
CRASH!
Earth exploded upward.
A tent collapsed.
Two bandits were thrown from their feet.
The prisoners screamed.
Ciel instinctively crouched.
Dust covered the center of the camp.
For several breaths, nobody moved.
Then something rolled out of the cloud.
A clay wine jar.
It spun across the ground before stopping perfectly upright.
A hand emerged from the crater.
Then another.
A man slowly pulled himself free.
His gray robe was covered in dirt.
Long black hair hung messily around his shoulders, filled with leaves, branches and one small white feather.
He sat on the ground.
Blinking.
Once.
Twice.
He looked around.
At the cages.
At the bandits.
At the prisoners.
Then toward the forest.
"This..."
He frowned.
"...isn't Blue Port."
No one answered.
A duck dropped through the damaged branches above him.
It landed beside the crater.
Quack.
The man's head slowly turned.
His eyes narrowed.
"You."
The duck immediately spread its wings.
"Come back here!"
It fled.
Camila stared at him.
"What the hell is this?"
The man looked toward her.
Then behind himself.
Then around the camp.
Finally, he pointed at his own chest.
"Me?"
"Who are you?"
The man seemed to seriously consider the question.
His attention drifted toward the wine jar.
"Oh."
He crawled over.
Picked it up.
Shook it.
A little liquid remained inside.
His expression softened with relief.
One of the bandits laughed.
"Boss, he's just some drunk."
Another drew his saber.
"Wrong place to fall, old fool."
Ciel watched silently.
Something felt wrong.
The man had fallen from the sky.
Not from a horse.
Not from a tree.
From the sky.
And he was worried about his wine.
Camila apparently noticed the same thing.
"Wait."
Too late.
The bandit rushed forward.
"Die!"
His saber descended toward the drunkard's neck.
At that exact moment, the man leaned forward.
"Ugh..."
He vomited.
The saber passed harmlessly above his head.
The bandit lost his balance.
The drunkard suddenly stood and accidentally drove the back of his head into the man's chin.
Crack!
The bandit flew backward.
Not stumbled.
Flew.
His body smashed through a wooden table and disappeared inside a tent.
Silence.
The drunkard wiped his mouth.
"That was close."
He looked toward the destroyed tent.
"Are you alright?"
No answer came.
Camila narrowed her eyes.
"Kill him."
This time, three bandits attacked together.
The drunkard sighed.
"You youngsters really don't know how to welcome a guest."
The first saber descended.
The man leaned sideways to recover his wine jar.
Miss.
A spear thrust toward his chest.
He stood too quickly, lost his balance and stumbled into the attacker.
His shoulder lightly touched the man's chest.
Boom!
The bandit shot backward through another tent.
The third attacker stopped.
The drunkard blinked.
He looked toward the ruined tent.
Then toward the remaining man.
"...Was he always that fragile?"
The bandit screamed and attacked.
The drunkard instinctively raised the clay jar.
Clang!
The saber shattered.
The jar remained intact.
The drunkard's eyes widened.
"You bastard!"
He immediately hugged the jar protectively.
"You nearly broke the important one!"
The bandit looked at the pieces of his weapon.
Then at the jar.
Then slowly stepped backward.
Camila unwrapped the whip from her waist.
The drunkard's eyes moved toward her again.
First her face.
Then her body.
Then the whip.
Then back toward her body.
His previously unfocused eyes suddenly became considerably clearer.
"Oh?"
Camila's expression hardened.
The drunkard rubbed his chin.
"What a pleasant place to crash."
Several bandits exchanged confused looks.
Camila raised her whip.
"You have three breaths to tell me who you are."
"Three?"
He looked genuinely concerned.
"Young lady, that's hardly enough time to properly introduce myself."
Her eye twitched.
The drunkard climbed unsteadily to his feet.
"And besides..."
His gaze wandered downward.
"This old man should be asking your name."
Camila followed his eyes.
Her expression darkened.
"Where are you looking?"
"Nowhere important."
He immediately looked upward.
A moment passed.
Then his eyes slowly drifted down again.
Camila's killing intent increased.
The drunkard smiled.
"Women cultivators are already uncommon in places like this."
He pointed toward her with the wine jar.
"A beautiful one is even rarer."
His smile widened.
"This old man really did fall in the right place."
"You seem eager to die."
"Many beautiful women have told me that."
He nodded sadly.
"So far, none have succeeded."
Camila tightened her grip.
The drunkard noticed the whip again.
Then the leather clothing.
Then the exposed skin.
Understanding suddenly appeared across his face.
"Ah."
Camila paused.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He smiled knowingly.
"You don't need to explain."
Her expression became dangerous.
"...Explain what?"
"This old man has traveled widely."
He nodded solemnly.
"I've encountered all kinds of unusual hobbies."
Several older bandits suddenly understood.
One lowered his head to hide a smile.
Camila stared at him.
The drunkard continued.
"The leather..."
He pointed.
"The whip..."
His eyebrows rose.
"Very bold."
Silence fell over the camp.
Camila's fingers tightened around the handle.
"You..."
"No judgment."
He raised both hands.
"This old man is very open-minded."
Her face turned crimson.
"BASTARD!"
The whip exploded forward.
CRACK!
The ground beside him split.
The drunkard stared at the trench.
Then at Camila.
"Oh."
Another strike came.
He swayed backward.
The whip missed his nose by a finger's width.
"So you prefer to start immediately."
CRACK!
He stumbled sideways.
Miss.
"Enthusiastic."
Another strike.
He bent down because one sandal had come loose.
Miss.
"Flexible."
Another.
He turned around looking for his wine jar.
Miss.
"Persistent."
Camila's expression became increasingly ugly.
Ciel stared.
She could barely see the whip.
Every strike was terrifyingly fast.
The drunkard moved like someone incapable of walking in a straight line.
Yet nothing touched him.
Not once.
Camila attacked again.
The man narrowly avoided it while trying to squeeze one final drop from his jar.
He shook it.
Nothing.
"Empty?"
"STOP IGNORING ME!"
The drunkard looked up.
"Oh."
He blinked.
"You're still here."
Crimson Qi erupted around Camila.
Several prisoners immediately fell to their knees.
The pressure crushed the air from Ciel's lungs.
She knew that feeling.
Foundation Establishment.
The same realm that had destroyed William.
The drunkard looked at the crimson aura surrounding Camila.
His eyebrows rose.
"Much better."
Camila hesitated.
"What?"
"A beautiful cultivator is rare."
He grinned.
"A beautiful cultivator trying to kill me before breakfast?"
He raised the jar toward the heavens.
"Heaven treats this old man well."
"YOU'RE COURTING DEATH!"
The whip became a crimson blur.
The drunkard laughed.
"Again?"
He swayed aside.
"You women are always trying to court me through death."
Another strike.
He turned.
"Try wine next time."
Camila shrieked.
Ciel's eyes moved away from the fight.
The bandits were watching.
All of them.
Then she saw something metallic near an unconscious man.
Keys.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
She looked toward Yunior.
Then toward the keys.
His eyes followed hers.
He understood immediately.
They slowly moved.
One step.
Then another.
Behind them, Camila's attacks became increasingly violent.
Trees cracked.
Tents were torn apart.
The drunkard continued surviving through increasingly ridiculous movements.
At one point, the whip passed beneath his feet because he had randomly jumped over a puddle.
Another strike missed because he tilted his head backward to watch another duck pass overhead.
Then—
the whip curled toward him from behind.
Camila smiled.
The drunkard turned too late.
"What is tha—"
He reached backward.
His fingers closed around fabric.
RIP!
Everything stopped.
The upper portion of Camila's crimson garment tore away.
Her bare chest was exposed.
Bandits froze.
Prisoners froze.
Ciel froze with one hand almost touching the keys.
Camila looked down.
Then toward the drunkard.
The drunken haze vanished from his eyes.
Completely.
For the first time since crashing into the camp, he looked perfectly awake.
His mouth slowly opened.
A thin line of saliva appeared at the corner of his lips.
He wiped it away.
Too late.
Everyone had seen it.
His hands slowly rose before his chest.
Without apparently realizing what he was doing, his palms formed two curved shapes in the air.
Camila stared at them.
Then stared at him.
"What..."
Her voice trembled.
"...are you doing?"
The drunkard looked at his hands.
He quickly lowered them.
"Nothing."
Silence.
He looked at her again.
His gaze fell.
Then rose.
Then fell once more.
He cleared his throat.
"Merely..."
He tried to compose himself.
"...appreciating the generosity of nature."
Camila began trembling.
The drunkard nodded gravely.
"Two exceptionally well-ripened spirit peaches."
No one moved.
"Perfectly shaped."
His hands started moving again.
Camila's eye twitched violently.
"STOP DOING THAT WITH YOUR HANDS!"
He looked down.
His hands froze.
"Ah."
He hid them behind his back.
"Muscle memory."
Several bandits immediately looked away.
Not because they were embarrassed.
Because they were afraid Camila might kill everyone who had witnessed this.
The drunkard continued staring.
"Worth falling from the sky."
Camila's aura exploded.
The ground beneath her cracked.
"YOU SHAMELESS PERVERT!"
The drunkard placed a hand against his chest.
"Shameless?"
He looked genuinely offended.
"Young lady, you're the one standing there without clothes."
Camila screamed.
"I'LL TEAR YOUR SOUL APART!"
She attacked.
The drunkard swayed away.
"Beautiful and unreasonable."
Another strike.
"I knew Heaven wouldn't be that generous."
Ciel reached the keys.
She grabbed them.
Her fingers shook.
Yunior moved beside her.
Ciel unlocked herself.
Then passed the keys to him.
He freed his wrists.
"Everyone—"
Ciel immediately grabbed his sleeve.
"No."
He looked at her.
"If they panic now, we'll be noticed."
Yunior hesitated.
Then nodded.
They quietly passed the keys along the line.
One prisoner.
Then another.
Then another.
Behind them, Camila's aura suddenly changed.
Blood appeared at the corner of her mouth.
Her skin briefly lost its youthful color.
Yunior looked back.
His expression changed.
"She's burning her Life Essence."
Ciel kept working the next lock.
"What does that mean?"
"She's sacrificing lifespan for power."
Ciel's hands paused.
Years of life.
Burned away.
For a fight.
She looked toward the drunkard.
He was scratching his back.
"Can she beat him?"
Yunior watched another attack miss.
"...I don't think he understands they're having a serious fight."
That answer frightened Ciel more than if Yunior had said yes.
Camila roared.
Crimson mist flooded the clearing.
Her whip multiplied into dozens of afterimages.
The drunkard squinted.
He rubbed his eyes.
"One..."
He counted.
"Two..."
His expression brightened.
"Three..."
The whip shadows filled the air.
The drunkard stared.
"Twenty-seven Camillas?"
A delighted smile appeared.
"Heaven truly rewards virtue."
Camila nearly coughed blood.
"THOSE ARE WHIP SHADOWS!"
The drunkard's face fell.
"Oh."
His disappointment was genuine.
"That's much less interesting."
"Die!"
The crimson shadows descended.
For the first time, the drunkard did not move.
The attack swallowed him.
BOOM!
Dust exploded outward.
Ciel covered her face.
When the air cleared, the drunkard was still standing.
Untouched.
His robe had not even torn.
Camila stared.
"...Impossible."
The drunkard looked exhausted.
Not injured.
Exhausted.
He yawned.
Long and loudly.
Camila's mouth opened.
The drunken clarity that had appeared when her clothing tore was already disappearing.
The man rubbed one eye.
"This old man suddenly feels terribly sleepy."
Camila's expression became incomprehensible.
"You..."
Another yawn.
"All this excitement..."
He looked at his empty jar.
"...and no wine."
He walked toward a nearby tree.
Camila lifted her whip.
"What are you doing?"
The drunkard ignored her.
He sat beneath the tree.
Rested his back against the trunk.
Closed his eyes.
Camila stared.
"Get up."
Nothing.
"GET UP!"
His head slowly tilted to one side.
A moment later—
Snore.
Silence.
Camila stared.
Snore.
Her face twitched.
One bandit whispered,
"Boss..."
Camila raised her whip.
She wanted to attack.
Everyone could see it.
She had burned her own lifespan.
Her clothes had been ripped away.
Her subordinates had watched a drunken stranger openly compare her chest to spirit peaches.
And now—
he had fallen asleep.
Camila's hand trembled.
She raised the whip higher.
Then stopped.
Her instincts screamed.
She had attacked him with everything she possessed.
Nothing had worked.
She could not sense his cultivation.
She could not understand his movements.
She did not know whether the man beneath the tree was genuinely asleep.
Or waiting for her to approach.
That uncertainty frightened her more than any killing intent.
Camila slowly stepped backward.
Her pride demanded she attack.
Survival demanded otherwise.
Survival won.
She bit down on her tongue.
Blood filled her mouth.
Her fingers rapidly formed a seal.
Yunior noticed.
"She's doing something."
Ciel looked toward Camila.
Crimson mist gathered around the woman's body.
"Crimson Blood Escape!"
Her figure dissolved.
A streak of red light shot through the forest.
Within seconds, she disappeared.
The bandits stared.
"Boss?!"
"Boss!"
Their leader had abandoned them.
The drunkard continued snoring beneath the tree.
Ciel didn't hesitate.
"Now."
The prisoners scattered.
Some rushed toward the horses.
Others fled directly into the forest.
The remaining bandits hesitated.
Chase the prisoners?
Follow Camila?
Attack the sleeping monster?
One man raised his saber.
"I'll kill him while he's asleep!"
An older bandit grabbed his wrist.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!"
"He can't dodge if he's sleeping!"
"You first!"
The younger man froze.
Neither moved.
They looked toward the tree.
The drunkard scratched his stomach.
"...peaches..."
he muttered.
Everyone became silent.
"...very nice peaches..."
A foolish smile appeared on his sleeping face.
The older bandit slowly lowered the other man's sword.
"We're leaving."
Neither waited for further discussion.
Ciel had almost reached the forest when someone shouted behind her.
"Stop!"
A bandit came running.
Ciel turned.
The man was closing the distance.
Too fast.
She had no weapon.
No Qi.
Nothing.
Yunior grabbed a broken branch.
It would not be enough.
Then—
SNORE!
Everyone looked toward the tree.
The drunkard shifted in his sleep.
One foot kicked outward.
It struck the clay wine jar beside him.
The jar rolled.
The pursuing bandit stepped on it.
His feet flew out from under him.
His head struck the ground.
He stopped moving.
Ciel stared.
Yunior stared.
The drunkard remained asleep.
Ciel turned back toward the forest.
"Run."
They ran.
Branches scratched her skin.
Roots tore at her feet.
Her lungs burned.
The pain in her hands returned with every movement.
Still, she ran.
She did not know where the others were going.
She did not know whether the bandits were following.
She did not know where Blue Port was.
She only knew that she had another chance to live.
And this time she would not waste it.
After some distance, the survivors began separating.
Some followed the road.
Others disappeared between the trees.
Fear had destroyed whatever remained of the caravan.
Ciel and Yunior stayed together for a while.
Then distant shouting echoed behind them.
Yunior stopped.
"They're following us."
Ciel looked around.
Several paths cut through the forest.
"Split up."
"What?"
"If we're all together, they'll find us."
Yunior shook his head.
"No. I'm not leaving you."
"Yunior."
"They could—"
Another shout.
Closer.
Ciel looked toward a steep slope covered in thick vegetation.
"We don't have time."
She pushed him toward the opposite path.
"Go!"
"Ciel!"
"I'll meet you in Blue Port!"
For a second he refused to move.
Then another shout came.
Yunior clenched his teeth.
"Blue Port."
Ciel nodded.
"Blue Port."
They ran in opposite directions.
Ciel descended through the vegetation.
She slipped.
Branches struck her face.
The ground disappeared beneath one foot.
She tumbled down the slope.
Pain exploded through her shoulder.
When she stopped, she could no longer hear Yunior.
Or the others.
Only the forest.
She remained still for several breaths.
Then slowly stood.
She was alone.
Completely alone.
Ciel looked toward the direction she believed Blue Port lay.
Her clothes were torn.
Her hands were bloody.
She had no money.
No food.
No horse.
No luggage.
Everything her parents had prepared for her was gone.
Everything except the strange ring around her finger.
Ciel touched it.
The green pearl remained dull.
Silent.
She thought of her mother.
Her father.
The dinner table.
The small plates her mother had spent hours decorating because she could not afford a farewell party.
Ciel closed her eyes.
Then opened them.
She started walking.
Behind her, somewhere deep within the forest, a drunken cultivator slept peacefully beneath a tree.
Ciel did not know his name.
She did not know his cultivation.
She did not know why a man capable of terrifying Camila had been flying through the sky drunk enough to lose a battle against a flock of ducks.
She only knew that he had changed her fate.
Without him, she did not know what would have happened.
Perhaps she would have been sold.
Perhaps she would have died.
Perhaps something worse.
For the second time in less than a day, something impossible had entered her life.
The first had been buried beneath the earth.
The second had fallen from Heaven.
And Ciel Yi had no way of knowing that the shameless drunkard sleeping behind her would one day become one of the most important people in her life.
Nor that one day, when countless cultivators trembled at the mention of his name, she would still remember him as nothing more than—
the drunken pervert who compared Crimson Flower Camila's breasts to spirit peaches.