Hao didn’t have to strain his ears to listen to the sound of water dripping in the distance. It must be storming outside. Summer will probably be over soon. He wasn’t sure where the thoughts came from, but hearing Lang, a voice he knew in the moment, washed him with relief. Hao was still half unsure what Yao wasn’t going to do to him, leaving him with most of his cultivation missing, but how or why still hadn’t dawned on him. For now, it didn’t matter—the moment was over, and he took a deep breath.

  Only a madman trusts no one, huh? Hao laughed inside, the ability to move his fingers slowly returning.

  “Have you ever thought both my wife and I were hiding as much as you were?”

  It was strange how calming the man’s voice seemed. Old and gruff, exhausted, yet there was fire hidden in it. Yet the same heat didn’t quite leave Yao, knowing the woman and her will, that alone was not a surprise.

  “Oh—I expected you were hiding something, but such silent movements, you are almost as good as little brother, just a lot better at hiding it…” Yao hummed her words—there was a sting in them, whether she was the one stung or with the stinger was a question floating in her slow words.

  Hao pressed the rest of the dark-red Qi in his stomach up through his chest. It gathered like glue in the back of his sinuses. He got a few fingers to twitch. His hand behind his back balled up and stretched, his limbs slowly stretched. If not for Lang’s arrival, the process would have been slower, he would have lost something to this woman.

  Lang puffed air from his chest before he spoke again. “Do you have an antidote for Brother Hao?” His voice seemed a low roar, there was more to the question than was asked.

  “There may be something similar. I doubt Little Brother will need it. Junior Lang should just look at his shoulder, while it’s exposed…”

  “Don’t call me Junior any longer, little girl. You’re half my age. Now tell me, do you have medicine?” There was a smile in his voice, a red violence, like a starving man who found a rabbit in a trap. “Did you think Bao was that much worse with Sensory skills than you? Someone with twice your time to learn and practice. Not all skills follow the same path. She may have missed Brother Hao’s Yang Qi. But she didn’t miss the strength or the ages of either of you.”

  Lang continued, his voice dropping to a notable cold, “But even perfect roads have stones fall upon them. Bao was hurt in an accident, that’s the only reason I don’t cut off your head…”

  Yao slid her voice in between the silence of the threat, “So, you had plans?”

  “We all did! All four of us. Bao and I, and the two of you. It seemed none of our plans went just right, huh?” Lang’s voice started to sour, curdling to a point of disgust. “But of all things, I didn’t think you would poison and assault a child…”

  “Pah!” Yao began to laugh, one controlled but loud enough to be genuine. “You think that blood-soaked young man beneath me is a child? Just look at him for a second…” She cut off her words to a sudden silence.

  Lang didn’t answer, and a silence ensued. Other voices from far down the anthill-like tunnels echoed up in the silence. Footsteps

  Hao reached up, his elbow bent up towards his face. Just moving his own body felt like trying to bend a bar of iron. He pulled his waist belt free from his face, managing to turn his head. He spat up all the poison-stained, dark-red blood onto the stone, lifting his head. It bubbled and popped, leaving small marks from the burst of the splatter. His whole body flexed as he lifted his back, his abs flexing, tendons screaming as he forced muscles to move. He looked at the two of them, back and forth, twice.

  Yao wore a face of incredulity. “You…”

  Hao stared at Yao for a second. She was well put together, all things considered, but she was wearing her robes loose before—perhaps it was covering more now than before they started the fight with the black-shelled tortoise.

  “How much of my Cultivation could you have stolen in this much time if Senior Brother had not come…” Hao asked, his voice strained, his neck felt like it was half-asleep.

  Yao had no answer to give, her bold eyebrows tightening, which made creases on the bridge of her nose.

  Not a lot, but more than I would want to lose, I’m guessing. Hao began to ponder a few thoughts, the idea of Yao having medicine being the most appealing. The glinting of her medallion caught his eye, and from Yao’s chest, he looked at the sword at her neck. Hao reached out, his thumb and index finger pinching the tip of the blade. His eyes trailed up to swollen fingers and the sunken face of Lang, struggling to stay in one piece. You should be with your wife, old man. Bao is wavering. Did you come here for me, or the idea of medicine?

  “Brother Hao, you should move, least of all your arms—you injured them earlier when you cut off the tortoise’s tail.” Lang’s face didn’t shift, and the sincerity in his voice felt strange to hear in this cave.

  Hao ignored most of the words, the dull pain had been nothing but a tingling since he cut the tail off. He could still move them. They could act even if the muscles screamed at him. Hao nodded his head, his arms remaining in the same spot.

  “I would bow and thank Senior, but I cannot stand,” Hao looked over at Yao, “Until she dismounts me.”

  Yao began to shift, but the threat of the sword at her neck slowed her. Hao reached out and touched the small leather bag at her waist, curious if he could search it himself. The moment he tried to sink into the bag with his mind, he flinched. His hand pulled back while his nose scrunched.

  Yao gave him an actual glare, a rare sight. “Try again,” she mocked.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Her medallion waved, flickering in the dark as if to mock him. “I told you—It is bound to my soul. Peel it away first…”

  Hao tightened his grip on the end of the blade. “Soul?”

  “Junior brother, we can search after she is dead.”

  Yao almost managed to find her smirk again. “Ha, you think that will be easy, all of us are Reclamation, is it only me that understands this? Body, spirit, soul…”

  Hao leaned forward, his face a sword’s length away from Yao, staring into her eyes. “Body, Physical Cultivation. Spirit, Spiritual Cultivation, World Energy, Spiritual Qi. Soul—explain.”

  “Junior brother, don’t waste your time. We can search after we kill her.” His voice came from his chest again, a growl.

  Yao stared down at Hao, her face unwavering despite the growing tension. The shock of all of this must have died down, and the smirk she was trying to force on, settled more comfortably on her hips.

  “I don’t think we can…” Hao shook his arms, flexing his toes. He felt more agile by the second. “I think we’ve all seen enough purposeless killing. I think we both owe her at least a little…” Hao’s face suddenly went begrudging.

  “Why did you stop the others from attacking the Drifting Stream disciples?” he muttered.

  Hao could see the shift in Lang’s face. It was obvious, if not for Yao, suggesting that the rest of the people standing around the injured to pursue Hao and ignore the rest of the Blue Robe disciples. Not only Lang, but Bao and the few other Drifting Stream Disciples there would have been slaughtered by a greater force.

  Yao didn’t answer, her smirk saying she was bored with the situation.

  “But Brother Lang is not wrong, she bested both of us, me at least. It would be better to kill her, wait for more disciples in white cloaks to come this way… Don’t worry, I don’t think we should let her go free without some conditions. First, how about you dismount me, Senior Sister…” Hao released the tip of Lang’s sword.

  Yao moved, her grace undeniable, her robes light brushing Hao’s skin and shawl brushing his next—Until the last movement. Her knee dug into the outer muscle of Hao’s thigh. The stiffened muscle bruised instantly. Was it a promise, a threat, or a plea? He doubted it was an accident.

  Lang moved with her with a terrifying smoothness, his sword never leaving her neck, dancing near her jugular never further than an inch away from cutting her. “Junior Brother Hao, I still don’t…” He shook his head. It was hard to kill someone who, even if indirectly, saved your life, especially when someone else pointed it out, at least Hao would think so. Lang eased his sword back a fingernail at a time.

  Hao curled his legs, bending his knee, was another foot all to itself. He rebounded his robe and tied his waist belt back. The fit was makeshift as it was, but despite his age and familiarity with the garment, he couldn’t tie or fit it the way Meiqi did. Hao tried standing with a certain degree of success on his feet. He shook himself a little, most of the paralysis wearing off. Still, he was unsteady, lowering himself before he had a chance to make a fool of himself.

  As Hao slowly leaned forward to touch the ground, he reached out towards Yao’s medallion. The woman reacted, pulling away and lifting her hands. The situation spun nearly out of control in two breaths.

  Hao saw Lang’s hand twitch. A clear cracking of his knuckles—Lang’s fingers made dry snaps as his hand ground down on the sword handle. The usually measured man started taking quick breaths. A hiss broke through his teeth. The steel flashed, matching the glint of the medallion.

  Hao’s hand shot out. His balance was hardly holding as his knees crushed into the ground. He felt his right eye twitch as he caught the end of the steel blade. He felt the blade break through his skin. Hao’s fingers wrapped around Lang, stopping before getting too deep.

  The older man seemed to freeze, “Junior Brother…” Lang slid his blade back slowly but not far, its point remaining close to Yao’s neck.

  “If you kill her. Then we can’t open the holding bag! What then,” Hao growled.

  He thought it was obvious already. He had more than just medicine, he wanted to take it as well. The pain was hardly noticeable; it only fueled his need to know of the Soul, to get stronger, to learn of Meng Hongyu, the one who chased him into this place.

  With little thought, Hao reached out towards Yao’s chest. His fingers aimed for the silver medallion. Hao had felt it once. It brushed his skin, leaving a momentary torrent of icy energy that flooded his arm and made him feel secure. It was bursting with World Energy. The jade embedded in the silver pulled his eye all the more.

  “Don’t,” Yao suddenly spoke. “I won’t let you take it.”

  The smirk on her face was gone, offense and something more coated her face, “It’s mine, I have another take that,” she said. “This one is proof of who I am. Take the rest of what I have! Don’t touch my medallion or my sword, or you will both die trying to.”

  Hao flipped over his hand, and it dripped blood from slices on his fingers and fingernail gouges on his forearm. He looked between Yao’s eyes and the medallion a moment longer, “I don’t…” Hao began speaking, “The spare medallion. If you have any medicine, spare some for me, then you will go back and help Bao.”

  “Junior Brother, I don’t…”

  Hao glanced up at Lang, “You plan to go further in the trial, don’t you? Then does your trust in her matter? Bao can’t go any further; she was bad enough before, now she may have broken ribs. I am not a doctor! Let her stay with others. Bao can go with them and tend to her. It gets rid of a strong opponent for the trial going forward.”

  “You think I will just give up, because you ask?” Yao tried to smirk, but it didn’t sit well. It didn’t settle on her face at all.

  Lang spoke for Hao, saving him the words, “Or you die.”

  “Now…” Hao looked at Yao, shaking his bloody hand.

  The woman gulped, her throat still, and her head frozen. It seemed like a struggle, but she took out a necklace, another medallion. It was silver like the one she wore, with only a few differences. The shape of the imprint was jade, but far more intricate. A serpent with horns and four legs. This one seems far more valuable than the one she’s wearing. She placed it lightly in Hao’s hand.

  “You can hold it, but don’t regret it if someone comes seeking it out. No one who knows about that Dragon Medallion will leave you alone.”

  Hao looked up at her, feeling an eerie warning that was more than just a threat. He decided it was a good time to show a skill he had yet to display. The medallion vanished, with no light or glow. He pulled it into the space of the Spirit-Holding bag. Hao hid the smile of triumph inside as she put on a look of shock.

  “I have a few things to ask you about, then I hope you will keep your end of this deal. There are a few other things I haven’t shown yet.” Hao smirked, mimicking Yao’s favorite face to make. Rather than getting angry, she glared at him like it was a challenge taken. She nodded her head, though, which was better than nothing—she had yet to lie to him, even if she hid the truth in her words.

  “Now, medicine, and a few questions, I think Senior Brother is okay with that.” Hao was waiting for Lang to nod before continuing. The older man sighed, pulling his sword back.

  “Soul, The Desert to the North, Meng Hongyu. Tell me what exactly all of them are, and what the Blue Moons Mountain Sect is scheming?”