The forest was still dark when Jiho trudged up the stony incline, Sohee's weight on his back growing heavier with each step. The only sound that accompanied them was the quiet, labored rhythm of her breathing and the distant chirp of insects. Dew clung to the grass, and Jiho's breath formed small clouds in the cold air.
They had been walking for hours—navigating narrow trails, ducking under branches, and trudging through uneven animal paths. The night was long, and the weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on Jiho's shoulders, but he didn't dare stop. Not when they were still being hunted. Not when time felt like it was constantly running out.
Eventually, the forest opened up.
Jiho blinked in surprise as the trees gave way to a wide, open field. A sea of tall grasses swayed gently in the breeze, and above them stretched a vast canvas of stars—glimmering, endless, and untainted by the smoke or noise of the sect.
Sohee stirred on his back.
"…Where are we?" Her voice was soft, hoarse.
Jiho knelt down and gently set her onto her feet. "Just a clearing. We'll rest here for a minute."
Sohee looked up—and froze.
Her eyes widened as she took in the night sky, the Milky Way draped like silk across the heavens. The stars shimmered like tiny lanterns, so clear and close it felt as though she could reach out and touch them.
She took a step forward. Then another.
And then she laughed—a bright, childlike sound Jiho had never heard from her before.
"It's so beautiful…" she breathed, spinning slowly with her arms spread out, as if trying to embrace the night itself. "I've never… I've never seen the sky like this before."
Her eyes sparkled with a kind of wonder Jiho didn't know still existed in her. For a moment, she seemed to forget the pain in her body, the years spent behind closed doors, the needles, the silence. For a moment, she was just a girl seeing stars for the first time.
Jiho sat down in the grass, letting the moment soak in. He watched her with quiet awe. The poison in her veins, the bruises of captivity, the bleakness they had just escaped—it all fell away in that field, under the watchful eyes of the stars.
Eventually, Sohee slowed down. Her breathing grew heavier again. Without a word, she walked back to him and leaned against his shoulder.
"…Let's go," she whispered. "Before it disappears."
Jiho nodded, and once again carried her on his back, the warmth of her momentary joy still lingering on his skin.
As they neared the edge of the forest just before dawn, they finally saw lantern light in the distance. Nestled in a valley at the foot of the mountains, a small village flickered to life.
At the forest's edge stood a large wooden sign, aged and weathered by time. Carved into its surface were letters darkened by years of wind and rain, but still legible:
Liangshan.
Jiho read it aloud in a low voice.
"Hold on, Sohee. We're almost there."
They slipped into the village quietly, careful not to draw attention. No guards, no gates—just low wooden houses, dirt paths, and smoke curling from chimneys as early risers stoked morning fires. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions, as long as you had coin or a good enough excuse.
By some miracle, they found shelter. An old herbalist named Granny Meng agreed to rent them a cramped room above her shed. Jiho paid her with some coin looted from the dead thief's pouch, and in exchange, he did chores during the day—hauling firewood, fetching water, and receiving simple meals provided by Granny Meng.
During the quiet nights, Jiho flipped through the pages of the stolen manual—the Wusheng Sutra of the Venom Path—carefully, trying to make sense of its cryptic techniques and obscure illustrations. Fortunately, even as test subjects, they had been taught basic literacy. Reading, writing, even occasional games of go were permitted during idle hours, perhaps to keep their minds from breaking entirely. It was that education, meager as it was, that now allowed Jiho to study the forbidden text with some degree of understanding.
Sohee's condition, however, worsened.
Granny Meng, half-blind but sharp in the ways that mattered, examined her one night under the flicker of oil light. She frowned deeply as her fingers pressed against Sohee's wrist, then studied the faint purplish hue beneath her nails.
"This girl…" she murmured. "She's been poisoned over time. Slow, quiet poison. Her meridians are clogged. Weak. If nothing's done… her heart won't last much longer."
Jiho's jaw tightened. He clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white.
Granny Meng suddenly paused in the middle of feeding kindling into the stove, as if a thought had just struck her.
"Wait… I nearly forgot," she muttered, brushing soot from her sleeves. "There's a woman staying in the village. Not from around here. Someone from the Ice Blossom Sect, if I heard correctly."
Jiho lifted his head. "Ice Blossom…?"
Granny Meng nodded. "She's not young anymore—past her prime, but the kind that carries presence. You can tell she's from the jianghu the moment you see her. Her bones are too straight, her eyes too sharp. Not someone you'd want to cross."
She turned and gave Jiho a hard look. "People like that… they may look cold, but they've seen the world. If there's anyone who knows how to deal with blocked meridians and poison, it's someone like her."
Jiho set the water bucket down. "Where is she staying?"
"At the edge of the village," Granny Meng said. "In that old tea house that closed years ago. She rented it out all by herself. Folks say she's here for peace and retreat, not business—but you might just get lucky."
---
The old tea house sat silent under the soft morning mist, its wooden walls faded and roof lined with moss. Jiho knocked twice, then waited.
The door opened just a crack, revealing a woman wrapped in pale blue robes that shimmered faintly like frost. Her black hair was streaked with white, tied into a high, practical bun. Her gaze was sharp—not cold, but reserved, the kind that measured people before deciding whether to speak.
"Yes?"
Jiho bowed respectfully. "Forgive my intrusion, senior. My name is Shin Jiho. I heard you are from the Ice Blossom Sect…"
She opened the door wider, regarding him in silence. After a long pause, she finally spoke.
"I am Elder Yun Hwayeon. What does a youngster like you want from someone like me?"
There was no hostility in her voice, but no warmth either. Jiho could sense power coiled beneath her calm, like snow masking the edge of a glacier.
He met her eyes. "It's about someone I'm traveling with. A girl—poisoned, slowly. I was told you might… be able to help."