"Cin yaaaan!"
Chen Hua's scream tore through the battlefield, echoing across the frozen clearing.
Time seemed to slow.
The spear shot through the air — a blur of wood and death. It sliced the wind, spinning wildly, before striking with a sickening sound.
Thud!
Cin Yan's eyes widened. But instead of her chest, the spear had pierced something else — Chen Hua's body.
The girl stood frozen for a heartbeat, the shaft of the weapon jutting out between her right shoulder and chest, blood blooming like crimson petals across the snow.
Then everything went dark.
The howling of the Red Winter Wolf, the shouting of the disciples — all faded into nothingness.
---
When Chen Hua opened her eyes again, she found herself cradled in warmth. The world swam into view — white snow, falling softly, and a pair of trembling hands holding her close.
It was Cin Yan.
Her usually calm face was pale, her eyes filled with disbelief and fury.
"Why… why did you do that, you fool!?" Cin Yan's voice cracked, her crimson robes darkened by Chen Hua's blood. "I could have dodged it!"
Chen Hua's lips trembled into a faint smile. "No… I knew it was too late. I… I just reacted…"
Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper.
Cin Yan's breath hitched. She tightened her grip on the girl's shoulders. "You could have died!"
Chen Hua chuckled softly, her voice fading. "Then… it means I made the right choice…"
Blood dripped from the spear's wound, staining the snow beneath them.
---
Moments before, Chen Hua had seen it.
She had turned her head just in time — catching the flash of wood cutting through the air. She saw Cin Yan in mid-swing, unaware of the danger behind her. Without thinking, she had leapt forward.
The spear that should have taken Cin Yan's life instead pierced her own.
And now, in the present, as the others fought to finish the wounded beast, Chen Hua's body trembled in Cin Yan's arms.
---
"Who threw the spear!?" Shi Tian's roar shook the clearing. His sword dripped with the wolf's blood as he turned toward the disciples, eyes blazing. "Who did it!? Answer me!"
No one spoke.
Some looked confused, others frightened. A few exchanged nervous glances.
"Speak!" Shi Tian shouted again, stepping forward, his spiritual energy rippling in anger.
But Cin Yan raised her voice, calm but firm. "Enough."
Shi Tian turned, stunned. "But Cin yan—"
"Now is not the time to find the culprit." Her tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument. "The wolf nearly killed us all. In such chaos, mistakes happen."
"But—"
Cin Yan cut him off. "Do you truly think anyone would dare attack their own while facing a beast like that? Whoever threw it must have lost control. We will not waste time in blame."
Shi Tian's jaw clenched. He looked away but didn't argue further. The fire in his eyes didn't fade — he would not let this matter go.
---
The Red Winter Wolf lay dead nearby, its blood steaming in the cold air. The clearing had fallen silent except for the ragged breathing of the disciples.
Cin Yan carefully lifted Chen Hua, still impaled by the spear, and motioned to the others. "We're returning. Now."
Le wei stepped forward saying in a serious and heavy tone like he actually cared . "She's bleeding fast. The wound isn't vital, but if the spear moves—"
"I know." Cin Yan's tone softened, though her eyes were cold and focused. "Mo Rian, Sha Tian — clear the path ahead. Shi Tian, take the rear. No one speaks until we reach the camp."
They nodded at once.
And so, through the dimming light of evening, twenty disciples trudged back through the snow, carrying their wounded companion. The once-proud air of triumph after defeating the beast was gone — replaced by silence, guilt, and unease.
---
By the time they reached the mountain cave that served as their temporary camp, the sky had turned a deep, bruised purple. Snowflakes drifted lazily down, settling on their bloodstained robes.
Inside, a few remaining disciples tending the campfire gasped as they saw Cin Yan entering with Chen Hua in her arms.
"Prepare the stretcher! Quickly!" Cin Yan ordered.
They rushed to obey, spreading blankets across the floor.
Cin Yan laid Chen Hua down gently. The spear was still lodged in her shoulder, its shaft trembling with each shallow breath. Her face was pale as moonlight, her lips nearly blue.
"Don't… remove it," Mo Rian cautioned. "It might be stopping the bleeding."
"I know." Cin Yan brushed a stray strand of hair from Chen Hua's face. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Hold on. Just a little longer."
---
Moments later, Headmaster Xiang arrived — his steps echoing through the cave. His face, usually stern and composed, twisted in shock at the sight before him.
Behind him came several elders, their robes fluttering as they entered.
"What happened!?" Xiang demanded, eyes darting between Cin Yan and the wounded girl.
Cin Yan stood and bowed slightly, though exhaustion weighed on her shoulders. "We encountered a Spiritual Red Winter Wolf, Headmaster. We fought and killed it… but during the battle, this disciple—Chen Hua—was struck by a stray spear."
The Headmaster's brows furrowed deeply. "A stray spear?"
Shi Tian stepped forward quickly. "Yes, sir. We don't know who threw it. It must have been an accident during the fight. Everyone was attacking from all directions."
The elders exchanged glances, concern etched on their faces.
Headmaster Xiang sighed heavily. "Such carelessness in battle… but there's no use scolding now. Her life comes first. Return to the village immediately — all of you."
"Yes, Headmaster!" the disciples replied in unison.
Cin Yan nodded silently and lifted Chen Hua once more, the girl barely conscious but still breathing.
---
The journey down the mountain was long and silent. The fading sun cast golden light across the snow, turning the bloodstains on their robes into shades of deep crimson.
By the time they reached the village at the mountain's base, night had fallen completely.
Lanterns flickered to life one by one as the group entered the gates. Villagers looked on in confusion and alarm — disciples returning with torn robes, carrying an injured companion.
The Medicine Hall lights were still burning.
"Quickly! Bring her in!" a healer shouted as they arrived.
Cin Yan followed as they laid Chen Hua upon the treatment bed. The spear was still embedded deep, its shaft slick with blood.
The elder physician examined her briefly and said, "The spear missed hee heart and other vital organs . She's lucky. But she's lost much blood — we must work quickly."
Cin Yan nodded, stepping back reluctantly as they began their work.
---
Outside the hall, the disciples gathered silently. Some sat against the wall, staring at their hands. Others whispered among themselves — about the wolf, the fight, the spear.
Shi Tian leaned against the cold stone, eyes narrowed. "Someone threw it," he muttered. "It didn't come from my side. It came from the east — where the rear guard stood."
Fu Yang said nothing, his gaze distant.
Cin Yan finally stepped out, her hands still trembling. The snow had begun to fall again, soft and unending.
"She'll live," she said quietly. Relief rippled through the group.
But her next words came colder. "Until she wakes up, i want the one who threw the spear to come forward, i know that it was an accident but still who ever you are please come forward, and if not then I will have to request the clan to investigate about this matter "
The firelight reflected in her eyes — cold, resolute, and dangerous.
And as the snow fell upon the silent disciples, the mountains seemed to whisper —
that sometimes, the deadliest wounds were not from beasts…
but from within.
No one stepped forward.
---
Cin Yan's sharp voice still echoed across the clearing, hanging in the frozen air like the final note of a blade drawn too long. Her gaze swept across the group of twenty disciples — each face pale, eyes averted. The only sound was the soft whistle of the winter wind and the distant hiss of melting snow near the fire.
Shi Tian's fists trembled. His chest heaved with anger, not because of Chen Hua's wound, but because the spear had been meant for Cin Yan. His veins bulged as he scanned the circle of disciples.
"Cowards," he hissed under his breath.
No one met his eyes. Some stared at the ground; others looked away, pretending to tend to their weapons. The silence itself was an admission of fear.
Cin Yan exhaled slowly. Her tone softened, but her eyes carried command. "If this is how you choose to respond, then so be it."
This was actually an act she was putting and and their was no way so she was trying to pull the truth out by guilt, or fear — not because she expected a confession, but because there was no other way. Whoever had thrown the spear would not admit it easily.
But Shi Tian was not one to wait. His jaw tightened, and his gaze fell upon a figure sitting near the dying fire.
Fu Yang.
He sat cross-legged, warming his hands over the flames, chewing calmly on a strip of dried meat as if none of this concerned him. His expression was unreadable — half-bored, half-cold. The sight ignited something inside Shi Tian.
He strode forward, his boots crunching through the snow. In one motion, he kicked the fire apart, sending embers flying into the air, and grabbed Fu Yang by the collar.
"What the hell are you doing resting?!" he shouted. "Can't you see someone almost died?"
The other disciples flinched, some stepping back. Fu Yang only looked up, his gaze steady, almost amused.
Shi Tian's fist rose, ready to strike.
But before his knuckles even touched air, Fu Yang's hand moved like lightning.
He twisted Shi Tian's wrist, a sharp crack echoing in the cold. Shi Tian groaned in pain, and before anyone could react, Fu Yang's fist slammed into his jaw once, twice — smak, smak!
Shi Tian flew backward, hitting the ground hard, but Fu Yang wasn't done. He seized him by the collar again and hurled him toward the shattered fire.
Shi Tian rolled across the hot coals, screaming, "Aah! Hot! Hot!" He stumbled, rolling into the snow, the steam rising from his singed clothes.
"Stop!" Cin Yan's voice rang out, commanding, urgent. She rushed forward, but the fight had already ended.
Fu Yang stood over Shi Tian, his eyes empty, expression unbothered. He didn't even spare her a glance.
"I told you to stop," she repeated, her tone colder this time.
Fu Yang turned away, his voice calm and detached. "You should tell him that."
He brushed the ash from his robe and started walking off when Shi Tian, still kneeling in the snow, shouted after him.
"It must be you!" Shi Tian's voice cracked with rage. "You're the one who threw the spear! Isn't that right?!"
Fu Yang paused, his back still to him. His silence only fanned the fire.
Le Wei stepped forward, seizing the chance to add fuel. "Yes, it must be him! Who else could it be? He's always been suspicious!"
A murmur rippled through the group — doubt, fear, and curiosity mixing into chaos. Then another voice rose.
"I saw him," said a young disciple hesitantly. "It was Fu Yang… I saw it clearly!"
All eyes turned. It was the same disciple Fu Yang had thrown down earlier — the one whose position near Cin Yan he had taken by force. His face was pale, but his voice trembled with forced confidence.
Shi Tian laughed darkly. "See? We even have a witness now."
Finally, Fu Yang turned, his gaze falling upon the trembling boy. "Oh?" His tone was cold, almost lazy. "You really saw me throw it? Or are you saying that because I took your spot earlier?"
The disciple's throat bobbed. "I–I'm telling the truth…"
Fu Yang stepped closer, his boots crunching the snow. "Then be ready to face the consequences of your words."
The boy's eyes widened. The others backed away, leaving him alone in Fu Yang's shadow. Shi Tian tried to rise, but his arm hung uselessly from the twist.
Fu Yang's presence grew heavier with each step — cold, suffocating. The young disciple's courage shattered. In panic, he turned and ran toward Cin Yan, falling to his knees.
"Senior Sister! Save me! Please!"
Cin Yan's brows furrowed. "Fu Yang, that's enough."
Fu Yang didn't stop. His expression remained unreadable. "Why should I?"
Cin Yan hesitated. Her voice faltered for the first time. There was something about his tone — calm, detached, but unyielding — that made even her uncertain.
The young disciple trembled on the ground, tears freezing on his cheeks. Fu Yang's shadow loomed over him like death itself. He grabbed the boy by the collar and lifted him effortlessly.
"I–I'm sorry!" the disciple shouted. "I lied! I lied! Please don't hurt me!"
The admission burst out of him like a scream for life.
Fu Yang stopped, his grip loosening slightly. His eyes flicked toward Shi Tian. "So," he said quietly, "that was your witness. What now?"
Shi Tian glared back, speechless, his pride burning but words dying on his tongue.
The boy sighed in relief, thinking the danger was over — until Fu Yang suddenly threw him down again. The impact thudded through the snow.
"Enough, Fu Yang!" Cin Yan's tone sharpened. "He's admitted he lied!"
Fu Yang looked at her, his eyes calm but fierce. "And if I hadn't acted, I'd be standing there as the culprit, wouldn't I? I'm teaching him a lesson — lies have consequences."
His voice deepened, each word deliberate. "In fact, I think he was the one who threw the spear."
He turned back to the trembling disciple, who shook his head violently. "No! No, I didn't! Please, I didn't!"
Fu Yang's hand struck him across the face — a sharp crack! echoed. "Would you lie again?" he asked, voice icy.
"N–No! I won't! I swear!"
"Hehee, Good and now i think you weren't the one who threw the spear."
Fu Yang dropped him into the snow, brushing his hands clean as if discarding a piece of trash.
Than said to cin yan." You should just ask the one who saved you."
Without another word, he turned and began walking toward the edge of the clearing, leaving a trail of deep footprints behind.
Sha Tian stepped beside Cin Yan, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let it go," he murmured. "He's not worth your anger right now."
Cin Yan exhaled, her glare softening into exhaustion. "He's reckless," she whispered. "But he's not wrong."
The disciple lay motionless in the snow, his head bowed in shame, cheeks red with the sting of both slap and humiliation. No one approached him. The silence returned — heavier than before.
Cin Yan looked around at the gathered group. Her voice was softer now, but resolute. "We'll look into this when Chen Hua wakes. Only she saw what truly happened."
Everyone nodded, grateful for a decision that didn't demand more conflict. They began to gather their supplies, preparing to return to camp.
The sky was dimming — the pale winter sun dipping below the horizon, painting the snow in shades of crimson and violet. The forest grew silent except for the crackle of fire and the distant cries of unseen beasts.