She was dying again. But no one mourned her. Not even herself. In the vast space between dreams and memory, voices drifted like smoke, whispering cruelty into her mind. Shadows pressed against her chest, heavy, suffocating. Cold fingers of regret wrapped around her ribs. Her body trembled, and her heart — her heart beat as if it still hoped. "Is she dead?" "That's what I heard." "Good. She should've died long ago." The voices echoed with venom, faceless and sharp. Each word was a knife, carving doubt into her soul. She couldn't see them. Only silhouettes. Blurred faces. But the judgment in their tones was unmistakable — they were relieved she was gone. "I heard she killed the King and Queen." "Her own parents, can you believe that?" "She killed Bao Fang too… wasn't she her master?" "Yes. The one who raised her. Trained her." Their laughter pierced her like daggers. Each accusation stabbed deeper. It felt real — too real. Her breath hitched. Her body, though unseen, crumpled

The rain hadn't stopped. It painted the city in melancholy brush strokes, the sidewalks shimmering under streetlights, the gutters whispering with runoff. Yu Bin walked quickly through the soaked streets, her boots splashing through shallow puddles. Every footstep felt heavier than the last. Her hand clutched her phone, thumb hovering over the number she had dialed a dozen times already. It rang once. Then silence. He knows. He's scared. Or… maybe he's already running. She inhaled deeply and turned down a quiet street. At the far corner stood a café with fogged windows and a hand-painted sign that flickered with age. The scent of rain mixed with old coffee beans greeted her as she stepped inside. The warmth was immediate—but her eyes were sharp. There he was. Slumped in the far booth, hood drawn low over his head, a full cup of untouched coffee in front of him. His fingers trembled slightly. Not from cold. From guilt. Yu Bin approached slowly, her steps soft but certain. "Goo

The apartment was quiet. Only the low hum of the refrigerator and the hush of wind brushing the windows filled the silence. No music played. No clock ticked loudly. Even time seemed hesitant to pass. Xian Chen sat on the floor beside the couch — close enough to feel her presence, far enough not to intrude. His back rested against the wall, legs bent, hands folded in his lap. Above him, Yu Bin sat upright, unmoving, like a porcelain figure left too long in the cold. She hadn't looked at him since she woke. She hadn't spoken. Not until now. > "No. I don't love you. I hate you. You killed my beloved master." The words cut through the air with a finality that didn't leave room for breath. Sharp. Precise. But beneath that blade… was something else. Something raw. Fractured. Bleeding. Grief. The kind that doesn't scream — it simmers. The kind that doesn't ask for comfort — it burns everything near. Xian Chen didn't respond. He didn't even flinch. His gaze dropped to the floor,

Three days had passed since the lake gave up its dead. Now, Yu Bin and Xian Chen stood beneath the breath of a fog-drenched forest on the eastern hill. Mist curled around their ankles like ghost hands, cold and persistent. Their boots sank slightly into the damp earth, muffled by leaves long fallen and never mourned. The trail they followed wasn't really a path—more a wound carved into the landscape, choked by brush and veiled in grey silence. Even the birds had forgotten this place. The deeper they went, the more the world fell away, until only breath and bone and shadow remained. Bao Fang had sent them. Her voice, steady through the phone, had whispered only one thing: "If you want the truth, follow the fog." Her leads had never failed them before. And this one… felt different. As if the forest itself had been waiting. Xian Chen's coat rustled faintly as he stepped beside Yu Bin, his eyes scanning the trees. "You okay?" he asked, gently. Yu Bin nodded, though her face was pal

The morning sun filtered through the wooden lattice windows of the Water Palace, spilling golden light across the polished tiles like a blessing from the heavens. The air was warm, perfumed by cherry blossoms drifting from the trees outside, their petals clinging to the silken drapes like shy messengers of spring. Yu Bin stood at the edge of the private training ground, arms folded tightly, her delicate brows furrowed in growing irritation. Her embroidered robes—silver threads dancing over pale blue silk—fluttered gently in the breeze, but the wind did little to soothe her fraying patience. "Master Bao Fang is late," she muttered, tapping her foot in rhythm with her annoyance. The sun had fully risen; birds had begun their serenade; the koi in the garden ponds were already awake. But her teacher? Nowhere. The past week had been a lesson in endurance—though not the kind she had expected. Her mother had insisted on formal training, claiming that destiny had carved a path for her beyon