"You'll kill that overconfident Suji... and that worm Kansai with him. Without leaving any trace. Understood? Hangwo Sect shouldn't be able to spot us. They might not be working together now, but they're everywhere — not rooted in one place."
Kage Ō ordered in a warning tone, his mouth close to Xio's ear. His eyes were cold, merciless. His fingers casually played with Xio's hair, a disturbing contrast to his harsh voice.
Xio swallowed hard. His throat was so dry he couldn't even wet it properly. His breathing was tired — slow but ragged. His pulse still raced, but weakly, painfully. His lips were dry, colorless from panic. His eyes, half-lidded, looked dead inside. He blinked once — slow, long, hollow.
Kage Ō kept his gaze fixed on the weakened boy, waiting for an answer. His face still tilted up by Xio's chin, held firmly in his hand.
"Under. Stood?"
He repeated again, this time tagging Xio's hair from behind — a sharp pull that made Xio wince. His gaze lost even more light, like death drawing near. He could feel it in every breath, even without looking.
For a moment, Xio hesitated. Just a few seconds of silence. But before Kage Ō could react, Xio quickly nodded — faint, but clear enough to signal obedience.
And then, like a blessing from above, a sudden knock echoed through the room — breaking the suffocating tension. Kage Ō blinked and turned his head toward the door, his attention shifting entirely.
Xio shakily looked at the door too, his gaze still weak and panicked — but now, a glimmer of hope flickered in his lifeless eyes. He had a feeling he knew who had arrived.
Kage Ō slowly moved away from him, letting go of his hair. One knee still on the velvet red floor pillow, the other bent — but never touching the floor. He stood, straightening his robes with the casual arrogance of a man used to commanding fear.
"Master, it's Dao Jiǎng Língxi. He's here to meet you, as always," said a voice from outside.
Kage Ō, usually indifferent to his appearance, suddenly began fixing his collar, dusting his robe. A lazy smirk curled his lips — the dangerous air of violence on his robes replaced with something oddly... civilized.
Xio exhaled shakily and weakly rolled his eyes. Relief flooded his system. His eyes shimmered faintly with a fragile kind of hope.
He knew that look. His uncle only changed like this for Jiǎng Língxi — the only person he actually respected. Not just as a friend, but like a blood brother.
Jiǎng Língxi was the Dao of the Bài Miè Ràn Sect, located across from Zhēnmìng Shān, on the Wàngshān Guǐyuàn — Ghost Garden of Watching Mountain. Larger and higher than their own mountain, the two peaks were once rivals but now connected by a spiritual bridge built through deep mutual trust.
Kage Ō had always shown far too much interest in Língxi... almost childish for a man over 80 years old. But forbidden rituals had preserved his youth — just like Língxi, who remained timeless through the same dangerous methods.
"Go back to your room and tend to yourself. I don't want you seen like this," Kage Ō said coldly before walking out, robes sweeping behind him.
Xio watched him leave, holding his wounded arm. The panic finally drained from his body, and a faint, fragile smile curled at his lips — like he'd been waiting for someone, anyone, to remind him that kindness still existed.
He quickly stood and left the chamber, heading to his own room.
His room was luxurious — black walls, golden marble floors, and his favorite bed waiting at the center. It even looked soft through his aching eyes.
He sighed, untied his long dark-gray hair, and removed the black-and-gold circlet that had held his ponytail — and the small golden massage gem on it, likely a gift from someone. Also the symbolic forehead ribbon of lanxie.
"Mm... my whole body hurts. Especially my head, neck, and hips..." he murmured tiredly. His eyes still held traces of earlier panic, his voice worn and broken.
"I might have died... by my own uncle. Sorry..i mean step-uncle. If she hadn't come... the cruelest to me, and the kindest to his best friend. I should've just died with my parents too..."
He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sore spots on his scalp. His long hair draped over his face, slightly tangled now. But then... another thought struck him.
If he died... who would protect Kirihito? Would he be captured, lost like Yuzai? What will happen to her ?
Xio stopped massaging, his head lowering in deep thought. His eyes ached as he blinked slowly.
"No... no, no. I can't die. Not yet..." he whispered. He pushed his hair back, strands curling around his fingers, then reached for a towel.
Meanwhile, Dao Jiǎng Língxi entered the domain of Bài Rùxiān, accompanied by a young woman — 35 years old — named Xuě Lánhuā.
Both of their long white hair shimmered with a bluish tint, edges dipped in icy blue. But Her eyes were light blue while her father's one was royal blue — a slow, steady kind of power. Língxi had a tiny beautiful royal blue Dimond at the middle of his temple which lànhuā didn't had..the Dimond felt like caring any untold story behind its faint shine .
Her father's symbolic color was the same: silvery white and royal blue. Their sect's symbol — a white dragon with blue eyes — rested on both of their robes.
Xuě Lánhuā was Língxi's only surviving child. He had lost an older son and daughter long ago. She was the daughter of his third wife, who also passed away. Língxi himself was cold and composed — not cruel, not warm — just...still.. But he was one of the most feared and respected Daos in history — beauty, brains, skill, and ruthless talent.
Xuě Lánhuā was perfect, yet different. She resembled her father in posture and presence, but her eyes were lighter — the color of her late mother's. Kindness glowed in her, especially when it came to Xio.
She was the only person Xio ever waited for...just like Yuzai..but in a different way..
Their relationship wasn't romantic — it was deeper. Like soul-bonded siblings in a world full of cruelty.
Both father and daughter wore white inner robes and royal blue outer ones. On their crowns sat Lán Qīngyè, the rare gem — gleaming like dew in moonlight.
Xuě Lánhuā looked at her father softly, a small smile on her lips. Língxi returned it — not overly warm, but pure and real. The kind of smile only a father could give a daughter.