The sight we saw silenced the young disciples, making the cave seem even more eerie and desolate.
I was drenched in mud, blood, and my own sweat, despite the depth of winter. Though eyes were closed, the feel and foul smell of blood and dirt enveloped me, leaving me disgusted and numb. I scorched the cloth I'd torn from my sleeve to staunch the bleeding; I bandaged the wound and repeated the process for all the injured.
Damn it.
My vision blurred as I struggled to sit up. I felt weak, but the sight of a familiar figure renewed my strength. It was him. A smile broke across my face as a familiar silhouette approached. Lin Jian, my comrade—a false one, yet still here.
Unexpected joy filled my heart. I stood in disbelief. He'd been with me through thick and thin, except for tonight's massacre. I'd thought he'd fled, or worse, that he was dead. I recognized his tall, lean frame instantly. He'd always walked and stood like that, and it was no different now.
His unchanged posture filled me with poignant relief. He extended his arms to support me as I fell unconscious. Everything had changed tonight; it wouldn't be the same, but at least we'd still have each other, right?
As was.
I wished I could have slept that night, the night it all began. It was the eleventh month of the previous year. Crickets chirped as I opened my eyes. Before I was fully awake, their sound seemed louder. I couldn't sleep; lying down was useless. I got up and put on my robe.
I sat by the window, bathed in the gentle moonlight that cast a scenic glow across my room. My gaze fell upon the spiritual sword I'd recently forged—a testament to my efforts, my reddened hand a painful reminder of the process. After its creation, I cleansed my hands in purifying water, washing away the grime of making the weapon.
As the 25th-ranked disciple; a position I'd earned through dedication and recent promotion.I reminisced about my humble beginnings in the sect, nurtured under the guidance of Master Xinyue. I had finally gained recognition as a high-ranking disciple within the Primeval Jade Sect.
Within our sect, high-ranking disciples are categorized into three distinct factions: the Jade Weavers, masters of illusion and spells using the power of the Jade Stone; the Shadow Walkers, exceptional fighters trained to be swift as lightning; and the Prime Artisans, craftsmen known for their expertise in crafting spiritual weaponry.
I belong to the third faction; I am a Prime Artisan of the Jade Sect. A lingering sense of incompleteness nagged at me as I looked at my newly forged weapon, prompting me to seek comfort in a cup of hot cocoa in the chill of the night. However, a sudden alertness gripped me as I sensed suspicious movement below, a swift, shadowy figure that eluded my grasp, leaving me to ponder the disturbance throughout the night.
The following morning, amidst the chatter of my old companions, a sharp, nagging voice demanded, "You! You! And you! And you!" A boy, barely older than me, pointed at random disciples. "To the cafeteria, all of you! You're on cleaning duty today."
He paused, his eyes on me, amusement glinting in them. "Oh, and you too, little Miss High and Mighty. Seems even the esteemed have chores."
I hesitated, anger rising. His words stung, and I knew the amusement in his voice was meant to mock me. Still, I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I will."
As the boy left, whispers followed him, turning into a tide of laughter once he was out of earshot.
"Yinuo, why did you agree? You don't have to clean anymore! You're practically a senior disciple now," Mei, one of my friends, exclaimed, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"Yeah, don't tell me you actually like cleaning. You're a dirt freak," another friend, Lan, chimed in, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
My cheeks flushed. "Shut it, juniors," I retorted. My earlier frustration was replaced by something else as a familiar figure passed by. "I just want to see my… best friend." The last word was full of hypocrisy. Everyone knew I meant Lin Jian.
Lin Jian and I... we had a complicated relationship.
We were friends—or at least, we pretended to be.
Truth is, we were just good at hiding things. Him especially.
I'd always thought I was the one in control. Years of training made me careful, quiet, good at slipping beneath notice. I knew how to keep my cards close. But that day, I realized Lin Jian was playing a game of his own.
We were paired for training—two rising junior disciples with too much potential and even more pride. Everyone thought we made a good match. Maybe we did. But I saw through him early on.
His eyes were always watching, his words a little too smooth. There was ambition in him, tucked neatly behind every polite smile. He acted like he didn't care about power—but that was the first lie.
We stood across from each other in the practice yard, blades drawn, breath coming in slow bursts. Our sparring sessions always drew attention. Not because we were the strongest—but because we both fought like we had something to prove.
His stance was sharp, almost flawless, but there was a tension to it—like he was waiting for the right moment to strike beyond the match. When our swords clashed, I felt it. He wasn't just reacting. He was measuring me.
"You're holding back," he said, low and steady. His tone was casual, but the way he watched me... it was calculating.
"Am I?" I answered, calm on the surface—but I shifted my grip. He was testing me. Looking for something. He wanted to know how far I'd go.
He smiled. It wasn't warm. "You think you're the only one who knows how to hide? You're not."
That threw me off—just for a second.
He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to make me realize I'd underestimated him. He wasn't just clever. He was like me. Ambitious. Careful. A little reckless. And smarter than he let on.
I tilted my head, studying him. "So what? You're trying to get inside my head now?"
His blade grazed mine, barely touching, but it sent a chill through me. "No," he said. "I'm trying to see how far you're willing to go."
That silence between us was thick with unsaid things. A mutual understanding.
We both wanted more. More power. More recognition. More control. But neither of us had it yet—we were still juniors, still clawing for scraps. Still faking confidence to mask how badly we wanted to win.
I stepped back, lowering my blade. He mirrored me.
"You talk like you've already won," I said, eyes narrowing. "But you haven't even seen what I can do."
He chuckled—low and smug, but not fully sure of himself. "Neither have you."
There it was again—that mirror. We were both ambitious kids in a world that demanded subtlety and silence. But we weren't built for silence. We wanted to climb. And we were willing to play dirty if we had to.
They say we were like parallel lines—too alike to be close, too competitive to ever truly trust each other.
But somehow, we became friends anyway.
Not out of kindness.
Out of curiosity.
Out of challenge.
Out of the thrill of knowing we'd either rise together—or eventually tear each other apart.
The thought of seeing him, perhaps even talking to him, was enough to make my day better. We loved being fake with each other. It was a foolish reason, I knew, but it was the only one that mattered at that moment.
"It's alright, Yinuo," Mei said gently, understanding in her eyes. "We know you have your reasons."
I nodded, a faint smile playing on my lips. It was a silly situation, but I knew we weren't entirely fake with each other.
Thirty minutes into cleaning, the clatter of the broom against the wooden floor stopped as Lin Jian appeared in the doorway, a mischievous grin on his face. "Happy birthday to me!" he announced, holding out a small paper bag. "A little something to celebrate. And, of course, I couldn't celebrate without inviting you to a small gathering later. Come, join me?"
The air in the room was thick with the scent of ozone and lavender, a byproduct of my recent cleaning frenzy. I paused, halted my spell on the broom, the bristles stiff mid-sweep. The swirling dust motes, once a chaotic swirl, were now drawn towards the enchanted cleaning cloths, which busied themselves with windows and shelves. Using my spiritual energy to guide them, I watched with a detached satisfaction as they scrubbed, polished, and banished every speck of grime. With a sigh of contentment, I hopped onto the large oak table, the wood warm beneath me. I crossed my legs and peered into the bag resting in his hands.
Its brim was filled with plump, pale green lotus seeds, each one a tiny, perfect oval. They glowed faintly in the soft light filtering through the window, an almost ethereal pile. "Lotus seeds?" I couldn't help but smile, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't a gift I expected. Nor, for that matter, one I particularly wanted.
He knew. Oh, he knew. He, Lin Jian, remembered my dislike for their delicate, sweet taste. He remembered the polite smile I plastered across my face each time he pressed a handful into my palm back then when I was put into the spot, claiming their potent healing properties. He remembered the way my jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly, as I forced down each grainy, floral kernel.
And yet again, here they were. A bag overflowing with the very thing I secretly loathed. It was so… Lin Jian.
"Just a small token," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "But I hope you'll join me. We'll have food, music, and good company. Alright?"
He knew how to get to me. The simple gesture, the feigned warmth in his voice, it all resonated with a comforting familiarity. "Of course, I'll be with you," I said, my voice reflecting his joyous warmth.
The wait for permission to leave the sect had felt interminable, each passing day stretching into weeks. Finally granted leave, we stepped into the marketplace, a sensory explosion after confinement. Crowds surged around us, a chaotic hum of bartering and chatter, the air thick with the enticing smells of spices and fresh bread.
"Do you remember that day in the peach orchard, six years ago?" I asked Lin Jian, a smile tugging at my lips.
He returned the smile, a soft light in his eyes. "How could I forget? It certainly made an impression." He chuckled, and I knew he was replaying the memory in his own head. It had been a spectacularly clumsy event, one that had left me with more than just bruised pride.
"You'd climbed so high, dozing off like a babe," he said, the hint of amusement still lingering in his tone. "Then you tumbled right out of the tree." He gestured with his hands, re-enacting my less-than-graceful descent.
"And landed with a thud that nearly knocked the wind out of both of us," I finished, adding my own wry smile. "It took me weeks to feel normal again."
We walked in comfortable silence for a moment, letting the memory hang in the air. It was a shared story, a small piece of our history. "It was a beautiful day, though," Lin Jian said, his gaze drifting to the colorful stalls. He paused as if remembering the scent of the peach blossoms, the warmth of the sun on his skin. "It felt… different."
"Different how?" I prompted, intrigued.
He shrugged. "Like being outside of time, I suppose. Just existing in that moment."
That was exactly how I remembered it too. "It did feel like we were the only ones there, somehow."
"Yeah," he agreed, a smile playing on his lips, "a secret world all our own."
Just then, Lin Jian grasped my wrist, a look of sudden urgency on his face. I frowned. "Careful, watch where you're grabbing. This tunic is clean." I pulled my sleeve back slightly, raising an eyebrow at him. "Disgusting."
"Hush," he said, his voice low, his hand inches from my face and no longer touching my sleeve. "Look." He nodded his head, directing my attention to the far side of the market.
The vibrant, boisterous mood of the marketplace abruptly shifted. A solemn procession of guards in green and white moved slowly through the crowd. They carried shrouded figures on litters, their faces completely concealed beneath white cloth. The silence that followed their passage was heavy, a stark contrast to the market's previous energy.
Lin Jian's usual playful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a serious curiosity. He stepped forward, drawing closer to the guards. "Excuse me," he began, his voice respectful but firm. "May I ask what happened to those people?"
A somber expression crossed the guards' faces. "These individuals, travelers," one guard replied in a hushed tone, "met their demise at Jade Falls."
Lin Jian's eyes widened in alarm. "Jade Falls? But that's mere leagues away from here."
"Aye, kid," the guard continued, "they were found drowned in the treacherous waters, their bodies carried downstream by the relentless current."
"Sir, may I take a look?" I asked, joining their conversation. He hesitated. "Sorry, young lady and young man, just let us handle it." He thought we were just curious onlookers wasting time, so I convinced him I could help. He eventually agreed.
As I lifted the drenched cloth, I immediately noticed a sword wound. "There's a wound," I said.
"Yes, the exact cause of their death is still unknown; most likely they were murdered and thrown into the water. Either way, they died at Jade Falls," he explained.
The wound was from a sword I'd forged; it was abundant in yang energy, and the way it sliced through the skin confirmed my assumption.
It was someone from my sect. I made three weapons using yang stone: a crossbow, a spear, and a sword. There was a suspect now.