The raft cut silently through the midnight waters, guided by moonlight and instinct. Wuyin sat at the front, eyes scanning every shadow that rippled across the surface. Yujin stood at her back, one hand resting on the hilt of her hidden blade, the other gently clutching the edge of Wuyin's sleeve.
She hadn't let go since the spirit beast appeared.
Neither of them spoke of it. Yet its presence lingered—like a scent after rain. Not hostile. But unnerving.
Wuyin's mind was distant again.
That vision… the broken sword, the reaching hand. It had felt more real than even her own past life's memories.
There was someone else in the depths of her inheritance.
And they were starting to wake up.
"I should've asked this earlier," Yujin murmured, breaking the silence, "but in your past life… did you ever love anyone?"
Wuyin blinked.
A slow exhale escaped her lips. "No. I didn't even know how."
Yujin nodded once, silent.
Wuyin continued, voice low. "Affection was dangerous. Attachment meant leverage. We weren't allowed to care. I was trained to see love as a poison—beautiful, slow-killing."
A faint smile touched her lips. "I never drank it."
"And now?" Yujin asked.
Wuyin turned slightly, her gaze catching Yujin's under the moonlight. "Now, I think I've already swallowed too much."
Yujin flushed, but didn't look away.
"Then you're doomed," she whispered.
"I've been doomed since the day I saw you unbothered in front of bandits like it wasn't your life on the line."
"That was a good day," Yujin said with a small smirk.
They shared a quiet laugh.
Then, the raft jolted.
Something thudded against the side—then again.
Yujin stepped back, drawing her blade. "Beast?"
Wuyin shook her head. "No. That was too heavy. Like…"
Thud. Splash. A shape darted past underwater. Then another.
Multiple.
Wuyin drew her sword. "They're coming."
From the dark reeds around them, shapes emerged—silent figures in grey robes, their hands covered in thin gloves, the symbol of a bloodied needle etched across their sashes.
Ghost Needle Sect assassins.
Yujin cursed. "How the hell did they find us?"
"No time," Wuyin said, stepping in front of her. "Stay behind me."
The first assassin landed on the raft without a sound, dual needles flashing. Wuyin met the strike with steel, parrying twice and driving her blade through the assassin's shoulder in one smooth motion. She flipped them overboard with a splash.
Two more followed.
Yujin drew her curved dagger, slipping beneath a thrown needle, slashing low at the second's leg. "They're not just here to kill us—they're testing our style."
Wuyin nodded grimly. "So they can report back."
Which meant more were coming.
The raft began to tilt as more figures tried to board.
Wuyin's sword danced through the air, silver arcs slicing clean through water-slick shadows. Her movements weren't just precise—they were ruthless. No excess motion. No mercy.
She was the blade again.
But her eyes flicked to Yujin with every breath.
Not this time. I won't leave her behind.
"Jump!" she shouted suddenly, grabbing Yujin's wrist and dragging her into the water just as three poisoned needles struck the raft.
They hit the surface with a splash. Cold. Suffocating.
Wuyin pulled Yujin beneath, guiding her through the dark roots of the marsh trees toward the far edge of the clearing. Her lungs burned, but she didn't surface.
Not yet.
Only when the reeds thinned did they break the surface, gasping.
They scrambled ashore, soaked, bruised, but alive.
Yujin slumped back against a tree. "That was awful."
"Better than being pincushioned," Wuyin muttered, brushing a needle out of her hair.
"They were tracking us. They moved like they'd seen you fight before."
"They have." Wuyin's tone darkened. "Or someone has. That style—they mirrored a sparring sequence I used in the forest. From years ago."
Yujin stiffened. "They've been watching you?"
"Or the original heir." Wuyin's gaze turned toward the woods, sharp. "Either way, we need to disappear again."
But before they could move, a voice echoed from the trees.
"I expected more from the Silent Monarch's shadow."
Another figure stepped out—a woman clad in silk armor, her fingers tipped with silver thimbles, needles glinting like spider legs from her sleeves.
Not an assassin.
A Master.
"Elder Mei of the Ghost Needle Sect," Wuyin said flatly. "Did you come to kill me yourself?"
The woman smiled faintly. "No. To test you."
She flicked her wrist—and a net of fine silver thread exploded toward them, sharp enough to cut through bark.
Wuyin pushed Yujin aside and dashed into the fray, sword flashing.
Clang. Slice. Parry.
The silver threads sang as they collided with her blade.
The Elder's movements were slow, but purposeful. Not holding back—but measuring.
"You're not her," she said mid-strike. "But you remember enough to be dangerous."
Wuyin gritted her teeth. "Stop comparing me to a ghost."
"Then stop moving like one."
Their final clash ended with Wuyin's blade against the woman's neck—and a single thread cutting Wuyin's cheek.
A draw.
The Elder stepped back, nodding.
"You've inherited more than just her sword. You carry her weight, too. Heavy, isn't it?"
Wuyin didn't reply.
The woman turned, vanishing into the reeds with her silent entourage.
"Next time," she said without looking back, "it won't be a test."
—
That night, Yujin cleaned Wuyin's cheek, her touch gentle.
"You're bleeding again," she murmured.
"I always am," Wuyin said.
Yujin smiled faintly, tying the bandage. "Then I'll just have to keep patching you up."
Wuyin watched her.
And for a moment—just a moment—she let herself believe this was what peace could feel like.
—
Far away, Yan Zhaoxing received a new report.
"She survived Elder Mei," the scout said.
Zhaoxing didn't blink.
"She will become either a sword too sharp to control… or one worth wielding."
He looked toward the window, where the night wind stirred.
"Let her sharpen a little longer."