Jin had been about to refuse. He was wary of strangers, and even more so of sudden kindness. But when he met the girl's eyes—bright with sincerity yet shadowed by guilt—something in his heart softened. His wounds still burned; perhaps, just this once, he could set aside suspicion. He gave a reluctant nod.
The girl exhaled in relief and immediately set about searching the undergrowth with deft hands. She moved as if the forest itself recognized her, plucking stems and leaves with the ease of long familiarity. Before long, she returned with several herbs, chewed them lightly, and gestured for Jin to press the green poultice against the gash across his back.
Coolness spread through his skin, chasing away the fiery sting. The ache dulled, replaced by a faint numbing comfort.
"My thanks, young lady," Jin said, inclining his head. "I don't yet know your name?"
The girl lowered her gaze, voice barely above a whisper. "I… I am called Zilan."
Zilan?!
The name struck Jin like a thunderclap. His breath caught. He remembered it clearly—on that fateful night in the desolate mountains, when he and Haolan had rescued two sisters. The elder sister's name had been Zilan. But that Zilan… had perished. Her lifeless body had been found inside that cursed coffin in the ruined temple, when the false guardians revealed their deception.
So who was this girl standing before him, alive and trembling in the forest?
Jin's muscles tightened. His hand slid instinctively toward the hilt of his blade. Could this be another illusion, another trap woven by the accursed "Bloodborn Guardians"?
Zilan flinched at his sudden hostility, confusion clouding her face. "Young master… what troubles you?"
Jin's gaze narrowed. "You call yourself Zilan? Then tell me—do you have a younger sister named Runa?"
The question struck her like an arrow. Her eyes widened, rimmed instantly with tears. "You… you know Runa? She is my sister! We have been separated for so long… Please, tell me, have you seen her? Is she safe?" Her voice broke into sobs of desperate hope.
Her grief was raw, too unguarded to be feigned. For a moment, Jin's certainty faltered. If the corpse in the coffin had truly been Zilan, then who was this? If this was Zilan, then whose body had he seen? A twin? A ghost? Or had the Bloodborn woven their lies even deeper than he imagined?
Doubt gnawed at him.
He forced his voice to remain neutral. "I… only heard the names once, in passing. Tell me, why are you alone here? And those men who hunted you—why do they wish to drag you back?"
Zilan's shoulders trembled. She bit her lip, then spoke with quiet misery. "My family once kept an apothecary in Nanling City. After Father and Mother passed, Runa and I depended only on each other. But then… everything changed. My uncle seized the shop, claimed all we owned, and sought to sell me into marriage. He would have forced me into the bed of Nanling's sixty-year-old city lord, as a concubine. I had no choice but to flee." Her tears slipped down her cheeks like pearls shaken loose from a string.
Her tale rang true, each word steeped in anguish. Yet Jin's wariness lingered. In the southern wilds, every smile could conceal a dagger, every story a veil for darker truths.
"Your wounds…" Zilan hesitated, brushing her tears away. "Forgive me, but you seem badly hurt. And… you were being pursued, were you not?"
Jin gave only a curt nod. "A troublesome matter. Not one I care to speak of. Since you are safe now, it is best we part ways."
He turned to leave.
"Wait, please!" Her voice quavered, desperate. She reached into her robe and drew forth a small jade vial, carved with elegant patterns. Holding it with both hands, she extended it to him. "This is Ningyuan Dan—a restorative that heals inner wounds. I offer it in gratitude for saving my life. Please, accept it."
The faint herbal fragrance wafted to Jin's nose, tempting him with the promise of renewed strength. He hesitated, torn between suspicion and need. Then, slowly, he accepted the vial. The cool jade felt heavy, almost symbolic.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Zilan bowed, her eyes glistening. "May Heaven protect you, young master." With that, she turned and vanished into the dense forest, her figure swallowed by mist and shadow.
Jin stood alone beneath the canopy, the jade vial pressed against his palm. His brows furrowed as he stared into the fading trail she left behind.
Zilan—dead and yet alive. The forest whispered with secrets.
And somewhere within those secrets, a deeper conspiracy stirred.