The next morning, Yuan Yu woke with a heaviness that had not faded through the night. The absence of farewell still lingered, quiet but persistent. Even after waking, the feeling did not leave him.
His aide, Rui, was already awake, waiting at the door. He stood calmly, as if he had been there for a while.
"Ah, I couldn't take care of you yesterday," Yuan Yu said. "Today we'll train a little. Some martial arts… and I'd like to see your reading and writing."
Rui nodded with a small smile, accepting without hesitation.
Yuan Yu observed him for a moment.
Rui stood straight despite the early hour. Not rigid. Simply attentive.
There was no hostility, no unease. Instead, there was a quiet sense of possibility. If trained well, Rui could become someone reliable—someone who could stand at his side in the future.
Could we ever be like Liang and his Second Commander? he wondered silently.
They had grown up together. That kind of bond was not easily formed, and it could not be forced. A faint image appeared in his mind—Han Liang as a child, bright and unguarded.
The thought brought a soft warmth to his chest.
As Yuan Yu walked toward the main hall, the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
People were running. Voices rose, calling for help. The calm of the morning broke without warning.
His hands went cold.
He ran.
He found his father standing outside his grandmother's door.
His posture remained straight, but the strain was impossible to miss.
— "Father… what happened? Is Grandmother alright?" Yuan Yu asked, unable to steady his voice.
Leader Zhen did not look away from the door. He explained that she had fainted suddenly that morning and had not woken yet. The doctors were already inside, doing everything they could.
No one knew the cause.
More doctors and scholars were called. Servants moved quickly through the halls, but no one spoke loudly. The tension deepened with each passing moment, pressing down on everyone present.
Tai Ling was seventy-five years old. She was more than a grandmother—she was a pillar of the sect, respected and trusted by all.
To Yuan Yu, she was something even greater.
As a child, he had sat beside her, reading in silence. Those quiet hours had shaped him—his calm, his discipline, his love of learning.
Now—
he could only wait.
Time stretched.
Day turned into night, and night into another day. The passing hours blurred together, slow and heavy. The first doctor left before sunset. Another arrived after midnight.
By dawn, a third had taken his place.
For two days, Yuan Yu remained near her door, keeping watch with the doctor. Sleep came only in brief moments, never enough to ease the tension.
The fear did not leave him.
At one point, he spoke quietly.
— "We will keep watch tonight."
The doctor nodded and replied in a low voice that at her age, some things could not be controlled. The words settled heavily, leaving no comfort behind. Incense burned without pause.
Prayers echoed through the temple halls, steady and low. The scent filled every corner, lingering in the air.
Outside, Rui stood guard, silent and unmoving. When the lamps burned low, he replaced them.
No one asked him to.
Servants brought food several times, but Yuan Yu refused each time.
It had always been like this. When he was troubled, he did not eat. Even as a child, no one had been able to change that habit.
So they did not insist. By the second day, the trays were left outside the door.
Most returned untouched.
Inside the room, Yuan Yu finally sat beside his grandmother.
He did not speak at first. Memories returned slowly—her voice, her laughter, the quiet evenings spent reading together.
He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper.
He told her she had to wake up.
That there was someone he wanted her to meet.
His father and uncle came and went, checking on her from time to time.
But the sect could not stop. Orders had to be managed, decisions had to be made. Even now, responsibility remained.
They had learned that much from their own father.
It had only been two years since Yuan Yu's grandfather had passed away. The grief had not fully faded, and the memory still lingered in quiet moments.
And now—
that same fear returned.
Doctors, scholars, and healers were summoned from nearby towns.
Even so, no one dared promise anything.
Elsewhere, Han Liang was already on the road.
Evening had fallen, yet he did not slow his pace. The sound of hooves echoed through the valleys as he rode on without pause.
The journey would take four days.
The forest remained calm. The road stretched endlessly ahead.
From time to time, Han Liang touched the bracelet on his wrist.
The gesture came without thought.
He turned his head once.
Mount Ying had long since disappeared from sight.
Han Liang looked forward and did not look back again.
Back in the Jewel Sect, the lamps burned through another night.
Yuan Yu remained at his grandmother's side.