While Ji Wuye was immersed in reading, still in the same morning when the Ruoshui camp was beginning to bustle with people who had just completed their challenges from the Tower of Gods, another event unfolded as the sun steadily rose.
In a nearby tent, a blinding light suddenly manifested, signaling the return of another challenger who had finished their trial. The air crackled with faint bluish Qi, and a faint scent of crispy morning air wafted through the fabric walls.
The first thing to appear was her long, flowing, dark tresses, cascading like a waterfall of midnight silk. Her piercing eyes, sharp as obsidian bdes, swept over her surroundings, taking in every detail with a calcuting gaze.
Her crimson martial robe faintly glimmered under the morning sunlight, the intricate embroidery seeming to dance with each subtle movement.
Lan Yexin emerged from the blinding radiance, her lithe frame tense yet poised, every muscle coiled like a spring awaiting release. A wave of relief crossed her delicate features, softening the hard lines of determination etched into her face.
"I'm back," she said, her full lips curving into a faint smile as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the rich fabric of her robe.
Without hesitation, she raised her hand, and a gossamer interface materialized before her, glowing with an otherworldly light. "Let's see what we've got here," she murmured, her voice a low, silken purr.
========================
STATUS SCREEN
========================
Name: Lan Yexin
Level: 22
========================
ATTRIBUTES
========================
Strength: 33
Agility: 60
Qi: 40
========================
SKILLS
========================
- Quick Draw (F)
- Spark Parry (F)
========================
MARTIAL ARTS
========================
- Crimson Shadow Steps (1th) (D)
========================
Her gaze locked onto the glowing interface, her sharp eyes scanning every line with the intensity of a hawk surveying its domain.
Then, she saw it—the words that made her heart leap into her throat. The thing she had doubted, the reward she thought the Tower might have lied about or deemed impossible, was now dispyed right before her in vibrant, pulsing letters.
"A D-grade martial art," she murmured, her mouth slightly agape, her full lips parting in an expression of pure wonder.
Her pupils widened, unblinking, as she stared at the line of text hovering on the mystical interface. This was a first for her—having a martial art officially registered on her status screen.
Not to mention, the rest of the skills and items were so extravagant, so costly, they were almost out of reach.
But this, this martial art… the fact that it was finally hers made her smile blossom uncontrolbly, her delicate features lighting up with joy and pride.
Yet, just as quickly as it appeared, her smile froze, her brows knitting together in a slight frown as a new thought flickered across her mind.
A thought crossed her mind—the image of a figure with long white hair, a figure she couldn't stop thinking about. 'Master Ji surely survived, right?' she thought, attempting to reassure herself.
With the incredible strength and unfathomable skill she had witnessed firsthand from Ji Wuye, there was no way he could fail the Tower's challenge.
It just wasn't possible...was it?
And yet, a strange weight settled in her chest, a disquieting feeling she couldn't seem to shake. Her eyes darted anxiously between the fabric door of her tent, then lingered over the empty space inside, as if searching for a sign, a reassurance that her worries were unfounded.
'What if I just go check on his tent... to make sure he's... fine?'
The thought sent a flush of heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. Should she bluntly admit she was worried about him?
Even considering it made her skin burn with embarrassment. She quickly averted her gaze, her heart uneasy no matter how she tried to settle her thoughts. To go or not to go—that was the question lingering heavily in her mind.
"No, what are you even thinking, Yexin?!" she said aloud, smacking her cheeks with her palms in a futile attempt to snap herself out of this uncharacteristic state of agitation. The sharp sting did little to clear her head.
Desperate to divert her attention, another figure came to mind—Bai Zhenwu. "Uncle Bai should be safe by now too," she mumbled, trying to convince herself and shift her focus elsewhere. But even as the words left her lips, a nagging doubt crept in, whispering insidiously.
'Even the strongest martial artist can fall in that Tower challenge,' Lan Yexin thought, recalling the countless figures she had known—some of them close to her—who had never returned from their trials. The memories weighed heavily on her mind, making her heart ache with a dull, familiar pain.
Her train of thought eventually slowed, and her footsteps, soft and soundless, carried her to the small cy pot where she carefully removed some dumplings.
She reheated them over a freshly lit fire, the warm, flickering fmes bringing a comforting glow to the dimness of her tent.
Once done, she gently took out the now-heated dumplings, covered them with a cloth, and pced them in a small bowl. With purposeful steps, she carried the bowl out of her tent and into the warm embrace of the morning sun.
The woven fibers of the covering pressed gently into her palms as she moved across the camp, holding the simple meal protectively in her hands.
…
Lan Yexin took a deep, steadying breath, willing her pounding heart to still its frantic rhythm. With practiced ease, she composed her features into a mask of calm as she called out, "Excuse me, Master Ji."
Effortlessly sliding the fabric door aside, her steps halted as her gaze nded on Ji Wuye—the very man she had been so worried about—sitting casually with a book in his hands, utterly at ease amidst the tranquil surroundings of his tent.
A wave of relief washed over her, so palpable that she nearly staggered under its weight.
"Oh, good morning, Sister Lan," Ji Wuye greeted her with a faint smile, his crimson pupils shifting briefly to notice the covered bowl she carried in her delicate hands.
"Good morning, Master Ji," Lan Yexin responded, her own lips curving into a warm smile as she regained her composure.
Instead of feeling flustered, she maintained her dignified grace and immediately took a seat across from him, settling her covered bowl between them like a silent offering. "I brought you some food. Shall we enjoy our st meal together before we part ways?"
Ji Wuye's sharp eyes lingered on her briefly, his penetrating gaze seeming to pierce through her carefully cultivated facade.
This woman—offering him food with a faint smile and squinted eyes—but there was something he couldn't ignore. He noticed the sadness in her tone and the slight quivering in her voice, a rare occurrence for a martial artist as strong and disciplined as her.
"Sure," Ji Wuye replied with a small nod, carefully closing the book in his hands and setting it aside.
...
Once they had finished their meal, Ji Wuye stood and exited the tent, heading off to take care of some st business before leaving Ruoshui Camp for good. The sight that greeted him was the bittersweet bustle of the camp in the morning sunlight.
Some people sat at outdoor tables, their eyes closed and their hands csped together as though in prayer. They muttered softly, their voices a hushed chorus of hope, pleading for the safe return and success of their companions who were still inside the Tower of Gods.
While the majority of those who had managed to return were busy discussing their experiences—mostly boasting about the martial arts they had gained from the Tower's challenge—there were still many who had yet to finish their arduous trials, unlike Ji Wuye and Lan Yexin.
Now standing amidst the center of the camp, Ji Wuye quietly scanned the bustling activity around him, his crimson eyes missing nothing.
His sharp gaze swept over the tents and the open spaces where groups had gathered, their animated chatter and bursts of ughter filling the air. But his attention soon shifted as he began walking with purposeful strides toward a less-frequented area of the camp.
This part was starkly different, with loosely stacked tents resembling an ant nest among the gnarled trees.
Here, the forgotten and destitute huddled together, their ragged forms barely noticed by the rest of the camp's inhabitants. The scent of wood smoke and unwashed bodies hung heavy in the air.
"K-kind sir... please..." one of the beggars stammered, noticing the approaching figure as a long shadow loomed over them. They immediately began their pitiful pleas, hands outstretched, but suddenly froze when they realized who it was that now stood before them.
Ji Wuye's expression remained calm, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Recently, there's a rumor that the Yellow River has ninety-nine bends," he said evenly.
The beggar frowned at the seemingly nonsensical statement before sighing, their shoulders sagging in recognition.
"There's no need for secret codes anymore, Master Ji," they replied, their voice little more than a gravelly whisper. Without hesitation, the beggar gestured for Ji Wuye to follow, leading him deeper into the ramshackle encampment.
