The first thing Mo Lian noticed was the smell.
Not the sterile, herbal scent of a healer's hall but this was sharper, metallic, undercut with the faint tang of burnt spiritual energy. Like someone had mixed divine flame with vinegar and decided to call it "medicine."
The second thing she noticed was the rows of soldiers lined the corridor, their gazes flicking between Jun Wuya's imposing back and her soot-streaked self trailing after him, chains jingling softly.
She gave them a little wave. "Morning, gentlemen. Don't mind me. Just your friendly neighborhood disaster in progress."
The silence that followed could've frozen lava.
Jun Wuya didn't look back. "Ignore her," he ordered curtly.
Her eye twitched. "Rude and authoritative. You're a real treat."
He didn't respond, but she swore she saw his shoulder move like he was suppressing a sigh.
They finally stopped at a large, rune-sealed door. The sigils across its surface pulsed faintly with golden light. Jun Wuya pressed his palm to the center, and with a low hum, the entire door folded away like liquid metal.
The chamber beyond was… chaos in elegant form.
Alchemy tables lined with beakers, glowing herbs floating in spirit jars, runic blueprints scattered across marble counters. The air shimmered faintly with heat from an active forge in the corner.
Mo Lian's eyes widened, her fingers twitching with excitement. "You… have an alchemy lab?! A proper one!"
"You'll use it to create whatever," Jun Wuya said simply, walking toward the nearest table.
"Use it? Oh no, no, no...touch it, study it, improve it, yes." Her voice rose with enthusiasm. "Do you have stabilizers? Refined spirit stones? Oh, and don't tell me..."
She darted past him, scanning shelves like a child at a candy shop.
"...you've got phoenix ash dust! Do you even know how rare this is?!"
He gave her a flat look. "I don't collect ingredients for fun, Alchemist. Use what you need. Spare me the theatrics."
Mo Lian turned to him, eyes gleaming. "Theatrics? General, I once stabilized heavenly flame using frog mucus and divine salt. Theatrics saved lives."
Jun Wuya paused mid-step. "…I don't want to know."
"Good," she said cheerfully. "Because you really don't."
As she set to work, the atmosphere shifted.
Her earlier chatter faded into focused silence...hands steady, eyes sharp, movements graceful in a way that didn't match her reputation. Bottles clinked, flames roared, powders dissolved into shimmering elixirs.
Jun Wuya watched quietly from across the table.
He'd expected chaos, explosions, at least some property damage...but instead, she moved like someone who belonged to the art.
She was petite, barely reaching his shoulder, her robes hanging loosely over her slender frame. But when she worked, it was as if the world bent to her rhythm.
Every time the light of a rune flickered across her face, something ancient stirred in him. Like hearing a melody you're certain you once knew.
"Don't stare too hard," she said without looking up. "I might start charging for the privilege."
He blinked. "…You're insufferable."
"Thank you."
Hours passed. The potion simmered, cooling to a luminous teal.
Mo Lian wiped her brow and leaned back, sighing in satisfaction. "All right, that should neutralize the internal flame corrosion. Maybe. Possibly. Probably."
Jun Wuya frowned. "You're not sure?"
She flashed a grin. "Alchemy's all about faith."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I see why they call you mad."
"Mad? Please. I'm a visionary."
"Visionaries don't blow up fortresses."
She gasped dramatically. "That was one time!"
"Twice," he corrected.
Her mouth fell open. "You checked my records?"
"I read everything before deciding whether to free you."
That made her pause... the weight in his tone when he said "Whether to free you."
Not why ...but whether.
She looked up at him then, catching that faint melancholy again in his golden eyes. The same look he'd had when she first saw him... like every choice he made cost him something.
"You don't trust easily, do you?" she asked softly.
"Trust is earned."
"Hmm." She turned back to the bubbling elixir. "Maybe I'll earn it, then."
His gaze lingered on her for a long moment on her smudged cheeks, her messy hair, her strangely steady hands.
Something about her presence… felt like sunlight after endless storms.
But he said nothing.
"Alright," she said finally, lifting the glowing vial. "Time to test it."
Before he could ask how, she downed the entire thing.
He lunged forward instinctively. "Are you mad?!"
She swallowed, blinked twice, and gave a small hiccup. "Hmm. Needs more lotus powder. Oh..."
The potion flared inside her, rippling across her skin in a wash of light. Her spiritual aura surged violently, knocking scrolls off shelves. Jun Wuya caught her just as her knees gave way, his arm circling her waist.
She was so small in his grasp, trembling faintly with the backlash of unstable alchemy.
She blinked up at him dazedly. "…Okay, maybe too much lotus powder."
He stared down at her, jaw tight. "You could have killed yourself."
"Could've," she said weakly, smiling up at him. "Didn't though."
His grip on her tightened just slightly.
"You are impossible."
"Mm. But useful," she murmured, before her head slumped against his chest.
For a long moment, Jun Wuya just stood there, the faint hum of alchemy fires echoing in the background.
Her hair smelled faintly of herbs and smoke. Her heartbeat fluttered against his armor.
He let out a slow breath, lowering his gaze to her sleeping face.
"What an infuriating woman," he murmured under his breath.
But even as he said it, his fingers hesitated before letting go.
Something about her presence stirred a strange disquiet in him.
And for reasons he couldn't explain, the War God carried her gently.
Night Before Dawn, He laid her on a narrow cot in the adjoining chamber, the glow of the alchemy forge casting faint light across her soot-smudged face.
For a while, he just stood there, silent, unmoving.
The faint pulse of her qi was uneven but steady. What a Reckless woman.
He turned, adjusting his armor, and strode out into the moonlit courtyard beyond the lab. The night air was cool, laced with the scent of wet earth and steel.
"You can come out now," he said quietly.
A ripple shimmered in the air, then a massive form emerged from the shadows, fur dark as the night sky yet lined with faint streaks of gold that pulsed like veins of lightning.
A celestial black tiger, Baihuan, lowered its head. Its eyes glowed a deep, molten amber, mirroring its master's.
"General," the beast rumbled, voice low and resonant.
Jun Wuya's golden gaze flicked toward it. "Report."
"The woman you brought in... Mo Lian. Word of her spread fast. Two sects from the southern border have already sent envoys into the capital. They seek the Mad Alchemist of the South."
"For her abilities?"
"Her bloodline, most likely," the beast said gravely. "Rumor claims she once created an elixir that restored a dying cultivator's shattered heart… at the cost of her own vitality."
His gaze flickered. A faint chill crept down his spine.
A dying heart. An elixir that gave life.
Why did that sound… achingly familiar?
He dismissed the thought, voice cold. "Find out who's spreading such rumors and funding those sects, it might be a lead to why we are actually here. If anyone makes a move near the fortress, I want their heads before they can blink."
The tiger inclined its head. "As you command, General."
Then the air shimmered, fur melting into flesh, light bending around the beast until a man stood in its place.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with jet-black hair streaked faintly with gold, and eyes still glowing amber. His bearing carried both ferocity and reverence. In human form, Baihuan looked like a soldier forged from the same divine light as his master.
He placed a fist to his chest. "I'll begin at once."
Jun Wuya nodded slightly. "Go."
With a faint grin that exposed one sharp canine, Baihuan turned and dissolved into shadow, vanishing into the mist.
Jun Wuya exhaled slowly, his hand unconsciously brushing his chest, right over the faint scar where his heart once failed him.
"A dying heart, huh," he murmured. "What nonsense."
But the unease wouldn't fade.
The Next Morning,
"Ugh… I think I'm allergic to competence."
Mo Lian groaned, rolling over. Her head pounded, her body felt like someone had used her as target practice for heavenly lightning.
When she opened her eyes, she blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling.
And the smell of smoke, herbs, and something faintly metallic.
"Still not heaven," she muttered, rubbing her face. "Still not dead. Great."
She sat up, dark brown hair tumbling around her shoulders in tangled waves. Her olive eyes caught the faint glint of morning light filtering through the rune-seals.
Chains clinked as she moved... lighter now, more symbolic than restrictive.
"Morning, General," she called out lazily. "You didn't happen to make me breakfast, did you?"
No answer.
She stretched her arms, wincing as sore muscles protested. "Figures. The brooding type never cooks."
Sliding off the cot, she looked around the room, the faint shimmer of wards, the neatly folded blanket, the faint scent of metal and incense. Her gaze softened for half a second.
"You didn't leave me on the floor," she murmured, surprised. "How gentlemanly."
Her stomach growled audibly. "Okay, gentleman or not, I need food."
She stumbled into the main lab, still half-dazed, and caught sight of him at the far table. Jun Wuya was already awake, already reviewing reports under the glow of morning runelight.
Without looking up, he said, "You shouldn't be walking yet."
Mo Lian blinked. "And miss the chance to see your charming morning face? Impossible."
He finally glanced up, impassive as ever. "You nearly died yesterday."
"Nearly," she corrected, waving a hand. "Keyword."
He gave her a long, flat stare. "…Remind me why I didn't throw you back into the dungeon?"
She flashed him a grin. "Because you secretly enjoy my company."
Silence. Then, very softly, he sighed. "Delusional."
She gasped. "Harsh!"
"True," he replied dryly.
Mo Lian crossed her arms, mock-offended, but her lips twitched.
The morning light caught her eyes then, a soft olive hue, gleaming with life, and for just a moment, Jun Wuya's gaze lingered longer than he meant to.
Something in his chest tugged again. A faint echo. A warmth he didn't understand.
But he looked away first. "If you're done talking, get back to work. I need results before sundown."
"Fine, fine," she muttered, grabbing a nearby apron. "Slave driver."