The mission had seemed routine enough — escort an elder to a remote mountain village, deliver medicine for a rare fever sweeping through the valley, and return before the next sect assembly.
Lan Xiyue, Ruo Han, and two junior disciples made their way through the winding forest path. Late autumn leaves drifted overhead, their gold and crimson scattering over moss and stone.
The road was quiet… too quiet.
Ruo Han's instincts prickled. The bond between him and Lan Xiyue pulsed in warning, an unspoken tension threading between them.
When the first arrow sliced the air, Xiyue had already moved — blade flashing, cutting it down before it could touch the elder.
Figures stepped from the shadows of the pines. Five in total. Red-clad, the emblem of the Scarlet Sun blazing on their chests.
At their head walked an alpha taller than the rest, his black hair tied back with a strip of crimson silk, eyes like the dark before dawn — deep, still, and full of promise both dangerous and enticing.
Feng Lian.
He didn't draw his weapon immediately. Instead, he studied them — no, studied Ruo Han — with a gaze that lingered, assessing, almost curious.
Feng Lian: "So it's true. The White Jade keeps rare treasures well-hidden."
Lan Xiyue stepped forward, sword at the ready, his stance shielding Ruo Han completely.
Lan Xiyue: "You're far from your mountains, Scarlet dog."
Feng Lian's lips curved faintly.
"And yet… close enough to what I'm looking for."
For a heartbeat, Ruo Han felt that gaze again, like a hand brushing against his soul — unsettling, invasive, but undeniably aware. The bond within him shivered, as if recognizing a rival force.
Then the air broke into motion. Blades clashed, leaves burst into the wind, and the forest filled with the sharp scent of steel and blood.
Through it all, Feng Lian never stopped watching him.