LUO FAN
— ✦ —
Crossing the sea from Guidao Island to the mainland of the Xianru Empire was an ordeal I wouldn't wish upon anyone.
The Surging Storm Sect owned only one small, rickety boat, and that meant rowing it myself through waves and biting winds. After two grueling hours, my arms felt like lead. I tried casting wind to push the boat forward, but the strong ocean wind kept repelling it.
Finally, I reached the shore. To ensure Elder Tao could still use the vessel for future supply runs, I flagged down a passing fisherman and paid him to tow it back to Guidao's shore. It was a necessary expense… though a painful one, considering the state of our meager funds.
My disciples had eagerly volunteered to come with me, their faces alight with the thrill of adventure. But with stormy weather looming on the horizon, I refused. I couldn't bear the thought of them being caught in open waters on their return. I left them with clear instructions to remain at the temple and continue their training.
Three days of solitary trekking brought me to signs of civilization—fields of withering crops, sagging fences, and modest wooden homes. Their condition mirrored that of our sect: worn, struggling, forgotten. Such was life in the outer reaches, where the emperor's gaze never strayed and imperial prosperity remained a rumor rather than a promise.
Ten more arduous days passed before I reached a proper town.
Mianrao.
A quaint settlement with rustic charm, nestled at a crossroads for travelers journeying from the South, East, and West toward the northern river docks. It wasn't as grand as the capital of Xianru or as expansive as Yueshu, but it was alive. The main road bustled with inns, roadside restaurants, and teahouses tailored to weary merchants and passing adventurers.
To my surprise, the town was unusually crowded.
Carriages of every size jammed the streets, and merchant wagons lined the alleys. The steady creak of wheels, the chorus of haggling voices, and the barked instructions of caravan leaders filled the air. It was louder than usual. Denser. This wasn't the Mianrao I remembered.
Something had shifted.
Normally, traders traveling toward the Wun Empire's capital used the western river docks. But the ones here seemed to be rerouting east—toward the less-frequented passages.
The oddity gnawed at me. Had something happened in Wun's capital? Was this an indirect ripple from the wars still smoldering across the continent?
Fatigued and faint with hunger, I turned down the overcrowded restaurants and sought somewhere quieter. A modest teahouse sat near the edge of town, tucked away behind a row of empty market stalls. Its location promised solace, and I welcomed the reprieve.
But just as I neared the shop, the sharp clatter of hooves on cobblestone drew my attention.
A grand carriage pulled to a halt directly in front of me.
Its lacquered body gleamed under the midday sun, polished to a mirror's sheen. The gold-inlaid carvings that adorned its frame spoke of wealth and prestige—winding dragons, plum blossoms, and mythical beasts etched with delicate precision.
It was the kind of carriage I had only seen once before.
Ruan Yanjun's.
A pang bloomed in my chest—half envy, half something far more difficult to name. I imagined what it would mean to own such a vehicle. Elder Tao, spared from long walks. Our sect, elevated in the eyes of guests. A carriage like that wasn't just a symbol of luxury—it was legitimacy.
But such things were far beyond us.
I turned to the coachman, a sharp-faced man whose features sparked something faintly familiar. Before I could place him, the curtain was pushed aside, and a young man leapt out.
I froze when I recognized him.
Huang Wen?
Much more to my surprise, another man emerged.
Ruan Yanjun. The devil himself.
He descended from the carriage with effortless grace, long black hair flowing over his shoulders, his black robes embroidered with silver threads that shimmered as he moved. His mere presence drew every gaze, commanded every breath. Passersby stilled. Even the wind seemed to hush.
My heart stuttered.
What is he doing here?
Could he be heading to the dark path summit as well?
The world seemed to pause.
The hum of the marketplace dulled. The scent of roasted chestnuts and horses faded. Even the ache in my limbs dulled beneath the weight of his presence.
He looked the same—no, more refined, more composed. He stepped down from the carriage with the kind of poise that belonged to emperors. And in that moment, he might as well have been a god among mortals.
My breath caught.
But instinct prevailed. I straightened my back, cupped my hands respectfully, and bowed my head in greeting. "Lord Ruan."
He passed me without a flicker of acknowledgment.
Not even a glance. Not even the faintest recognition.
Beside him, Huang Wen walked by with equal indifference. His eyes swept past mine like I was nothing more than the wind.
I exhaled slowly and forced myself to remain still, but the sting remained.
After everything? After carrying him across mountains, hiding him from his pursuers, watching him sleep with his head in my lap, bandaging wounds I didn't cause… this was how I was greeted?
Not greeted at all.
A bitter taste rose in my throat.
But then—like a slap across the face—I remembered.
I had asked for this. I had told him that if fate ever forced our paths to cross again… we should pretend we were strangers.
And here we were. Fulfilling that promise with flawless cruelty.
My jaw slackened at the realization. A rueful breath slipped from between my lips.
This is what I wanted. Why does it feel so bitter?
I turned away before the ache in my chest could grow legs.
Inside the teahouse, I chose the farthest table in the quietest corner. The chatter and clatter around me felt distant, a blur of voices I didn't care to decipher. Across the room, I watched as Ruan Yanjun and his entourage were led up the stairs to the VIP lounge.
A young woman approached with a radiant smile, her simple dress swaying as she carried a lacquered tray. She guided me to my seat and placed a polished teapot down, along with two delicate porcelain cups.
"This is the finest tea you'll find in Mianrao," she said, her voice sweet with pride.
I watched the steam curl from the cup as she poured my first serving. The scent alone—earthy, warm, complex—unwound the tension in my chest, thread by thread.
I took a careful sip.
She wasn't wrong.
"You're right," I said, offering a faint smile.
She beamed, taking that as an invitation to linger. She chatted easily, telling stories of Mianrao's fading festivals, merchant caravans, and the resilience of its people in the face of dwindling fortunes. Her voice had a melody to it, soft but steady—like someone who had learned to smile through hardship.
And for a moment, I let myself be drawn in. Not as a sect leader. Not as a cultivator. Just as a weary traveler listening to a kind stranger's voice.
When her boss called her away, she offered me a warm smile before stepping back into the bustle. I nodded in thanks, watching as she moved between tables.
But as she turned away, she glanced back at me once more—her eyes catching mine, her gaze curious, sparkling with something unspoken.
I smiled as I took another sip of tea, savoring its delicate aroma. The warmth of the moment felt soothing, and my thoughts briefly wandered to the young woman who had served me. Her smile was radiant, and her gentle manner was oddly comforting. If life were simpler, perhaps I would have considered pursuing a connection with her. In another life—one not marred by betrayal and bloodshed—I might have even sought her family's blessing for marriage.
However, as my thoughts toyed with such possibilities, they were inexplicably interrupted. My gaze drifted upward, drawn to the mezzanine above where Ruan Yanjun sat. The shell curtains swayed softly, partially obscuring him, but not enough to hide the way his piercing eyes locked onto mine.
Sharp. Unwavering. I felt them like a blade tracing the outline of my thoughts.
I looked away at once, heat rising uninvited to my cheeks.
Why did I feel caught, as if I were a child under scrutiny? I had been thinking about that lovely woman, yet somehow, his presence loomed large in my mind, as though his silent approval or disapproval mattered.
I shook my head, trying to dispel the absurdity of it all. No, I told myself. I had made my decision. I had walked away. Ruan Yanjun had no hold over me anymore. My life was my own to live. And yet, the weight of his gaze lingered, like a thread tying us together despite my best efforts to cut it.
I forced my attention elsewhere, overhearing the conversation of two men seated at the table beside mine. They were merchants, their voices low yet troubled, their words tugging at my curiosity.
"Ever since Fuhai City fell, the gates have been sealed," the older man said, his voice heavy with worry. "No one is allowed to leave or enter. A few of my relatives are trapped inside. I don't even know if they're still alive."
"My sister and her children are there too," the younger merchant added, his tone equally grim. "Not even letters are getting through. We can only hope they've survived."
Their conversation gripped me. I couldn't sit idly by any longer, not when their words hinted at the very chaos I sought to understand. I turned toward them, folding my hands in a polite gesture.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. Forgive my intrusion," I began, keeping my tone respectful. "I am Luo Fan, a humble priest from the Surging Storm Temple on Guidao Island. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Might I trouble you to share what has happened in Wun Empire?"
The merchants exchanged a glance, their expressions skeptical.
"You mean to tell us you don't know?" the younger man asked.
"Our temple is secluded," I explained. "News of the outside world reaches us slowly, if at all."
Understanding dawned on their faces, and the older man gave a small nod. "Ah, I see. Guidao is quite remote, indeed."
He squinted at me, leaning forward slightly as if trying to place my face. "Wait a moment… Luo Fan, you said? Were you not that blind man I found in my wagon nearly six years ago?"
His words struck me like a thunderclap. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the sound of his voice. "Could this gentleman be Li Yao?"
The older merchant's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with a mix of nostalgia and delight. "So, you do remember me."
I rose from my seat, cupping my hands and bowing deeply. "I could never forget the name of my benefactor. Your kindness saved my life."
Li Yao shook his head, clearly pleased. "And look at you now. Walking tall, clear-eyed, no longer broken. Life must have turned around for you since that day."
I straightened, offering a modest smile. "It's thanks to people like you that I stand here today."
Li Yao gestured to the man seated beside him. "Oh, I nearly forgot—this is my traveling companion, Xiao Delun."
Xiao Delun and I cupped our hands in greeting and exchanged polite bows.
"Join us," Li Yao insisted warmly, already pulling a chair closer. Without hesitation, they shifted my tea and food to their table, making space for me to sit.
Once we were settled, Xiao Delun turned to me, his expression earnest. "Luo Fan… earlier, you said you're a priest?"
"I am," I replied simply.
"It's fortunate, then, that we've met someone like you on our journey," he said. "We desperately need prayers—for the safety of our relatives trapped in Fuhai City."
At the mention of Fuhai, my attention sharpened. I leaned forward slightly. "That's precisely why I dared to interrupt earlier. I've been traveling in isolation. I know nothing of what's happened in Wun Empire. Could you tell me what's going on?"
Li Yao sighed, lifting his cup and taking a long sip before answering. "It's as bad as you can imagine. Three weeks ago, the Kan Empire launched a full-scale assault on Fuhai City. The battle lasted only three days."
My breath caught.
"Emperor An fled," Li Yao continued, bitterness tinging his voice. "Abandoned his people. No one knows where he is now, though rumors claim he's hiding somewhere in eastern Wun."
"The city's been sealed ever since," Xiao Delun added, frustration shadowing his features. "No one in or out. Merchants like us are stranded. The western river docks are no longer accessible. The Xianru army has closed them off—afraid the Kan forces might push farther south."
I nodded grimly. It all made sense. Fuhai sat just another city away from River Tianque, the great waterway that served as a natural border between the Wun and Xianru Empires. If the Kan Empire had taken Fuhai, then of course Emperor Yin would fortify the Xianru docks. Even the faintest threat of war spilling across the river would justify a military blockade.
Memories of my conversation with Yu Guo surfaced. He had warned me of the impending invasion months ago, but hearing it confirmed was another matter entirely.
Li Yao shook his head. "Fuhai was one of the greatest trading cities in the empire. Its fall has crippled merchant routes across the region. My business has plummeted."
"Has no one offered aid?" I asked quietly, struggling to conceal the disbelief in my voice.
Li Yao scoffed. "Who would? Emperor An made his choice when he severed ties with the Eternal Damnation Sect and exiled them. For decades, that sect protected our borders. They kept the Kan Empire at bay. Without them, all he had left was an arrogant military and paper shields."
"Emperor Sun must have known that Wun was defenseless without the sect's protection," Xiao Delun said. "It's no wonder they struck when they did. Emperor An must have overestimated his forces. I wouldn't be surprised if he's groveling for Sect Leader Ruan's help now."
A chill ran down my spine at the name.
Ruan Yanjun. Is he listening from above?
I shifted slightly in my seat, trying not to shift my gaze to the mezanine. "What about the other sects in Wun?" I asked. "Didn't any of them rise to defend the capital?"
Li Yao sighed. "Most of them are too small. And too afraid. No one wants to be crushed between two empires."
"The Endless Plain Sect is the largest in Wun," Xiao Delun chimed in. "But even they haven't lifted a finger. They know Kan has support from the Ethereal Frost Sect and the Blazing Sun Sect. They won't risk retaliation, not when they can just shift their base of operations to their Silang branch and wait this out."
I felt a wave of helplessness wash over me. It was as if every thread tying Wun Empire together had unraveled. "And the Silang Empire?" I pressed.
"No idea," Li Yao said with a shrug. "They're known for their neutrality. Maybe they think it's better to stay out of the mess."
Their words painted a bleak picture of Wun Empire's decline, and my heart sank. My thoughts were heavy with the implications of the situation, and my mind wandered back to the letters I had received. Attending those meetings seemed more crucial than ever now. If the sects and empires couldn't work together to bring stability, countless innocent lives would be lost.