The clamor of steel had barely faded when the Royal Guards of the Pavilion rushed into the garden. Twelve men in lacquered armor stormed through the eastern path, their polished breastplates gleaming in the moonlight, their spears lined with red tassels that danced as they moved. Their boots struck the stone path in perfect rhythm, the sound echoing between the estate's walls like a rolling drumbeat.
The night air was crisp, the scent of camellia now mixed with the faint iron tang of blood. The koi pond reflected a perfect round moon, but its gentle ripples were disturbed by torchlight from the guards. Shadows from the carved pavilion pillars stretched long over the polished floor.
By the time they arrived, the assassins had already vanished. The only signs of the fight were scuff marks on the wood, a few drops of blood trailing toward the west wall, and the lone corpse of the man Qianya had slain.
The guards spread out immediately. Half knelt to examine footprints, blades, and broken roof tiles, while the rest fanned into the garden's perimeter, spears ready, scanning the trees and rooftops for movement. The leader, a tall man with a square jaw and a black-lacquered chest plate marked with a golden phoenix, gave orders in a voice that was deep but controlled.
"Secure the area. Track the trails westward. No one enters or leaves this pavilion without my word."
While they worked, Qianya's veil fluttered faintly in the breeze as she turned to Little Water. He was still standing, but blood soaked the front of his plain robe, dark and sticky. The dagger's hilt jutted out from his chest, its metal glinting under the moonlight.
Her eyes tightened. "You're still bleeding. Commander, heal him—now."
The guard leader stepped forward, his armor clinking softly. "Understood." He pressed a palm over the wound, and a faint golden glow rose from his skin as he began transferring Qi energy into Little Water's body.
But the moment that warmth seeped in, Little Water's face twisted in pain. His body stiffened, a low growl escaping his throat before he shouted—his voice sharp and commanding:
"Stop transferring me Qi energy, fool! It's harming me!"
The golden glow cut off instantly. The guard leader froze, baffled. Qianya's brows furrowed under her veil.
"How can Qi energy harm you?" she demanded. "It's supposed to heal, not injure."
Little Water didn't answer her directly. Instead, he caught the guard leader's wrist firmly. "Hold still. Just for a moment."
Closing his eyes, he focused inward. The thin threads of Qi trickled into his body, and he traced their path. It was strange—completely different from the middle realm. Here in the mortal realm, the flow didn't start in the dantian or circulate through meridians in the same way. Instead, it began from the mouth and throat, traveled down to the heart, and then spread outward to the rest of the body.
When he was certain, he let go. His voice was calm now. "Qianya. Your hand."
She hesitated, suspicion flickering in her eyes. But she didn't ask questions. Slowly, she placed her hand in his.
Little Water closed his eyes again, letting his senses brush against the rhythm of her Qi. The flow was identical—mouth to heart, then outward. This confirmed it: he could cultivate here, even regain his former strength.
But as he traced her Qi further, a sudden jolt of instability made his eyes snap open. A faint corrosive hum threaded through her energy—it was poisonous.
He released her hand instantly. "That body," he said, nodding to the dead assassin, "bring it here."
One of the guards obeyed, dragging the corpse across the polished pavilion floor. Moonlight spilled down from above, silvering the blood on the assassin's chest. The night was unusually bright—the full moon hanging low over the estate like a watchful eye.
Behind him, Qianya's posture stiffened. Her Qi was becoming unstable, and even through her veil, he could sense her discomfort.
"You're unwell," Little Water said without turning. "Take Zhihao to Lady Ruyin's chamber."
She opened her mouth to argue, but his tone brooked no refusal. She gripped the boy's shoulder and guided him away. As she passed the guards, she spoke clearly: "Listen to him tonight as you would to me. His orders are my orders."
When their footsteps faded, Little Water knelt beside the corpse. His hands moved without hesitation—cutting open the man's chest with a precise slice, pulling free the heart still heavy with congealed blood. Gasps erupted from the younger guards, a few turning their faces away.
But the commander watched without a flicker of emotion.
Little Water squeezed the heart until blood ran over his left hand. With his right, he drew a circle in the wet crimson on his palm, then wrote a single character within it—Death.
The smell of iron thickened in the air.
The commander broke the silence. "Are you a warrior, boy?"
A faint smirk curved Little Water's lips. "No. I'm a scholar. Can't you tell? I'm wearing scholar's robes."
The man didn't press further. "What's your order, then?"
"How many of you are there in total?"
"Twelve."
"Good. Can you rebuild the old broken house at the edge of the estate?"
The commander blinked. "…What?" He exhaled slowly. "If it's an order, then yes."
"Tomorrow morning," Little Water said simply.
"Fine."
Without another word, Little Water gripped the dagger still lodged in his chest and yanked it free. The wound began knitting itself together, not through foreign Qi but by drawing in the thin threads of energy from the night air. Now that he understood the mortal realm's Qi flow, his body could begin adapting.
His eyes went to the dagger in his hand. A faint residue of the assassin's Qi still clung to it. He turned to the commander.
"I have another job for you. Bring me a corpse."
The man's eyes narrowed. "You want me to kill someone? I won't."
"No, no," Little Water waved a hand. "Not a fresh one. There's already a body—north of here, about a thousand steps away. One of the assassins. Bring it to me."
The commander frowned. "How do you know that?"
In answer, Little Water flicked the dagger skyward—only it didn't fall back. Instead, it shot northward, slicing through the air like a meteor.
The commander stared for half a breath, then left without another word.
Far away, an assassin was sprinting over tiled rooftops when a flash of steel split the night. The dagger struck with such force it pierced straight through his back, exiting his chest. He crumpled soundlessly, tumbling into a darkened street.
Five minutes later, the commander found the body. He stood over it for a moment, thinking, That man is not to be crossed, then hefted it onto his shoulder and returned.
Little Water barely glanced up as it was dropped before him. "Good. You can all go now. Tomorrow you rebuild the old house. Don't think tonight's work excuses you from that. If you don't come, I'll make sure Lady Ruyin hears of it."
A collective sigh rippled through the guards. More than one thought, What a monster. But they left.
Alone now, Little Water dragged the second corpse near the tea chamber. Again, he cut open the chest, removed the heart, and squeezed its blood into his right hand this time. Drawing another circle, he wrote a new character—Life.
The two seals—Life and Death—merged within him, locking away his former cultivation fully. But now he knew exactly how to break it when the time came.
Searching the second corpse, he found a small black vial of poison, a worn scroll of fist techniques, a thin medical book on antidotes, and a bronze token etched with a dragon twined around a phoenix. Without comment, he tucked them into his robe.
Finally, he settled into the pavilion, picked up a book titled Mortal Journey, and leaned back on the stone table. The moonlight poured across the garden as he read. Sometime before dawn, the book slid over his face, and he drifted into a light sleep.
---
Morning came with the sound of boots. The guards returned, this time with workers carrying tools and timber. None dared wake him. By midday, servants had cleaned away the bloodstains and carried off the bodies, leaving the garden pristine once more.
It was only in the afternoon that soft footsteps crossed the stone path—Lady Ruyin, Qianya, and little Zhihao.
The boy spotted him first, still lying in the pavilion. "You're still sleeping, Xiao Shui! It's afternoon!"
Little Water stirred, lowering the book from his face. "I was awake until sunrise. Didn't sleep much."
Lady Ruyin tilted her head. "Why stay up all night, Xiao Shui?"
"Oh, Miss is here today," he said lightly, sitting up. "You've finally arrived."
But as he spoke, Qianya froze. His eyes—normally calm and dark—were now pure crimson, glowing faintly under the afternoon light.
"Why are your eyes red?" she asked sharply.
Lady Ruyin followed her gaze, and for a heartbeat, it was as if a killer who had taken countless lives was sitting before them. But then the red bled away, returning to normal, and the moment passed like a shadow in sunlight.
----To be Continued---