"Young Master… Young Master, I know I was wrong. I didn't think properly in the moment.
This is entirely my fault, and I'm truly sorry.
I know I was mistaken, and I swear there will never be a next time.
I will never reveal another secret about the Young Master again. Please, believe me!"
Yue Ming's chest tightened with suffocating pressure.
But what choice did she have besides begging for mercy?
Resist?
She wasn't foolish enough to entertain that notion. Resisting Ye Qian would be tantamount to seeking death.
Despite the bitter humiliation churning inside her, Yue Ming swallowed her pride and admitted fault.
Fear coiled through her veins. If Ye Qian truly intended to harm her, she possessed no means to stop him.
"Wrong?"
Ye Qian's finger traced a lazy path along her jawline, gliding across the smooth porcelain of her cheek.
"Is it truly so simple as being 'wrong'?
Mistakes demand punishment, do they not?"
The gentle motion of his fingertip against her skin sent contradictory signals through Yue Ming's overwrought nerves.
When she registered that he intended merely to punish rather than destroy her, a tremulous exhale escaped her lips.
Punishment meant survival.
Trembling, she forced the words through her constricted throat.
"Young Master, what... what kind of punishment?"
She couldn't fathom what awaited her, but instinct warned her this punishment would brand itself into her memory.
Ye Qian's lips curved into an amused smile as he studied her anxiety-pale features.
"Tonight, Xia He and Qiu Lan will not attend my bath. You will take their place."
The words struck like lightning, obliterating thought.
She had spent these past days learning the fundamentals of personal service from Xia He and Qiu Lan—proper tea preparation, wardrobe arrangements, chamber maintenance.
But bathing duties had remained firmly outside her responsibilities.
The senior maids feared her inexperience might provoke the Young Master's displeasure, and displeasure from Ye Qian could prove fatal.
Until this moment, she had never attended his bath.
Now, faced with this abrupt demand, terror and uncertainty warred within her.
Her hands twisted together, fingers knotting and unknotting as conflicting impulses paralyzed her.
Ye Qian observed her internal struggle with feigned innocence.
"What? Do you have an objection to my punishment?
If you disagree, you may voice it.
Don't worry—I am nothing if not fair. Speak freely."
Of course, whether he would honor any objections remained entirely his prerogative.
The silence stretched.
Yue Ming's thoughts raced through calculations and consequences.
She was merely a personal maid, one among several.
If she wished to distinguish herself, to secure her position and perhaps earn genuine favor, she couldn't rely solely on the mundane tasks that Xia He and Qiu Lan already performed flawlessly.
In those duties, she was redundant, replaceable, forgettable.
She drew a steadying breath, and something hardened in her expression. The conflict drained from her face, replaced by brittle determination.
Her eyes locked onto Ye Qian's.
"Alright... alright! I understand. I will prepare in advance."
The words barely left her lips before she fled his presence.
She couldn't endure another moment there. If Ye Qian issued further demands—more excessive, more invasive—she might crumble entirely.
And the cruel truth was that even if she shattered, she possessed no power to refuse him.
...
At that same moment, in Ashen Orchid City, Yue Qingshan finally stirred from the exhausted slumber that had claimed him the night before.
Something felt wrong.
An inexplicable discomfort had seized him upon waking—a sensation of loss, as though something vital had been severed from his existence.
He couldn't identify what had departed, couldn't name the absence that now haunted the edges of his consciousness.
But he had no time to dwell on nebulous unease.
His purpose burned with singular clarity: locate the Ancient Ruins, claim whatever inheritance or treasure lay hidden within its depths, and forge himself into something stronger.
If he could accelerate his cultivation, narrow the vast chasm between his power and Ye Qian's, he might yet reclaim the Crushing Star Blade—the Samsara Artifact his master had entrusted to him.
Yes, he had abandoned thoughts of rescuing Yue Ming.
She was lost to him now, corrupted by Ye Qian's tyranny. The girl who had once been his beloved now wore the chains of willing servitude.
Attempting to save her would earn him nothing but ingratitude and verbal abuse. She was a wasted effort, a distraction from what truly mattered.
The Crushing Star Blade consumed his thoughts entirely.
A Samsara Artifact of devastating power, his master's greatest treasure, now lost because of his weakness.
He had to retrieve it. Failure was inconceivable. How could he face his master's sacrifice, especially knowing that he had fallen into dormancy to save him?
No time for hesitation. The Ancient Ruins... I must reach them today.
Yue Qingshan gathered his meager belongings with swift efficiency and departed the inn.
He chose to travel on foot rather than summon his Cloud-Swallowing Roc.
Within city limits, discretion served him better than speed.
Drawing attention here would invite scrutiny from opportunistic cultivators or worse—those who might recognize him and report his movements to enemies. Once marked, he would struggle to shake pursuit.
Across the street, Yun Lan emerged from her own meditation.
She had forgone rest entirely, maintaining cultivation while keeping her spiritual senses extended toward Yue Qingshan's location.
As he stepped into the morning street, her eyes snapped open.
She appeared at her window just as he turned the corner, beginning his journey.
After minimal preparation, Yun Lan slipped from her room. She couldn't afford to lose him now, not when he was finally moving toward his objective.
She maintained significant distance, her stealth techniques honed through years of shadow work.
Under such conditions, even a wary target would struggle to detect her presence, and Yue Qingshan showed no signs of suspicion.
Beyond Ashen Orchid City's gates, Yue Qingshan consulted the mental map etched into his memory and set a direct course.
His destination manifested gradually as he walked—a forest of skeletal trees, their branches bare and twisted, their trunks blackened by time or blight.
Dead leaves carpeted the ground in thick, rotting layers. No birdsong reached his ears. No signs of life stirred among the withered vegetation.
The atmosphere pressed against his skin like something tangible, cold and invasive, raising the fine hairs along his arms.
No one knew why this place had become a graveyard of vegetation.
It had stood this way for decades, perhaps longer.
Locals avoided it with superstitious dread, whispering that travelers who ventured into those dead woods never returned.