The three of them hovered above the waves, watching the water rise and fall. Mo Jian and Fan Mei stood ready, qi honed and tense, in case the lava dragon decided to follow them here. Bai Ning, meanwhile, was busy keeping the struggling Niumowang from slipping out of her hands.

  Minutes passed. Nothing happened. No glow emerged beneath the sea, no dragon lunged out of nowhere—no roar, no disturbance, nothing to show that anything had happened at all.

  Finally, Fan Mei exhaled softly and put away her guzheng. With a sweep of her sleeve, she summoned the ice boat they had used earlier. It appeared no larger than a grain of rice, then rapidly grew until it was big enough for all three of them to sit comfortably. They stepped aboard, the vessel floating steadily in midair.

  “It seems it isn’t following us,” Fan Mei said, finally releasing the tension in her shoulders. “I suspect the dragon has no intention of leaving the Fire River. It’s likely made that place its lair and only lashed out because we disturbed it. No true intelligence or malice—thank the Jade Emperor.”

  Mo Jian nodded, though his expression remained stern. His gaze settled on Bai Ning, his frown cutting deep lines into his face.

  “That was reckless, Bai Ning. Leaping after the Niumowang while a dragon was bearing down on us—do you understand how close you came to dying?” Bai Ning, still trying to calm the bull demon in her arms, looked up with an embarrassed smile. “I wasn’t thinking. He reached out to me—asked for help. I just… reacted.”

  Mo Jian’s eyebrows shot up, and even Fan Mei looked startled.

  “It reached out to you? How?” she demanded, her tone sharp. “A demon like that shouldn’t have the intelligence to do such a thing.” She peered at the squirming bundle in Bai Ning’s arms, as if expecting an answer from it.

  Bai Ning shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. I felt it in my qi—like a cry for help.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall the sensation. “I can’t describe it any better than that.”

  Mo Jian grunted. “I’m more surprised it managed to survive at all, nesting so close to a dragon. You’d think it would’ve been devoured long ago.”

  He meant it. The Lava River was supposed to be devoid of demonic beasts entirely. Hunting a Niumowang there had been strange enough, but encountering a dragon in the heart of that domain defied all expectation.

  Fan Mei made a low, thoughtful sound. “Perhaps it stayed quiet enough not to draw attention. Even we were ignored until we stirred the lake. That would explain why the dragon has remained unrecorded for so long. I doubt it’s newly arrived; it was too well adapted to that place.”

  Mo Jian inclined his head in agreement. Juvenile dragons were beings of mostly flesh and blood, but full grown ones were renowned for changing themselves to better suit their environments. Flood Dragons ruled the rivers and seas; Cloud Dragons drifted through the skies; Earth Dragons burrowed beneath mountains; and once, he had even crossed paths with a Forest Dragon—its scales grown from living bark.

  Such transformations required time—ranging from decades to even centuries. For the lava dragon they had faced to be so perfectly attuned to the Lava River, it must have been dwelling there for many years, perhaps even on the cusp of rank eight. They had been fortunate. Had it chosen to pursue them, the ensuing battle would have been catastrophic. Escape was possible—the Lava River lay far from any settlement—but it would still have been a desperate flight.

  “Thankfully,” Mo Jian said at last, letting his shoulders relax as he leaned back against the side of the boat, “we all managed to escape with our lives. That’s what matters.” The icy surface, soothing back in the Lava River, was now uncomfortably cold against his robes, but he paid it no mind.

  For a long while, none of them spoke. The only sounds were the faint, pitiful mooing from the Niumowang nestled in Bai Ning’s arms, and the distant murmur of waves far below. The air here was cooler—free of the boiling heat that clung to the Fire River—yet the silence carried a weight none of them seemed eager to break.

  Finally, Fan Mei stirred. “I’ll inform Lord Qing that a dragon has taken up residence in the Lake of Lamentation,” she said quietly. “It’s hardly a place many visit, but it would be remiss to let some unsuspecting cultivator wander in and be devoured when we can prevent it.”

  Mo Jian gave a low hum of agreement. “Do you think Ancestor Qing will move against it himself, or simply warn the sects nearby? A beast like that could tempt even him—its core alone would be worth a fortune.”

  Fan Mei hesitated, her gaze distant. “I doubt Lord Qing would be interested,” she said at last. “But others might. Song Shaoyue, for one—she might be ambitious enough to send her Nascent Soul guard after it. Or perhaps the Lord of the Lonely Road might appear, temped by such a beast.” She shrugged lightly. “Who knows? In any case, it’s out of our hands—unless one of you feels like testing your fate against a dragon.”

  Mo Jian snorted, feeling the ache in his bones from when the Heaven Enshrouding Ding had shielded them from the dragon’s breath. “No, thank you. Once was enough.”

  Bai Ning had remained silent, her attention fixed on the creature in her arms. The bull demon had finally gone still, its breathing shallow and uneven. Its once-black hide was dull now, and a faint crack marred its horn. It looked pitiful—nothing like the tricky beast that had led them on such a chase only hours ago.

  “What should we do with him?” she asked softly. “He’s injured. I doubt he’s in any condition to fight back.”

  Mo Jian and Fan Mei exchanged an uneasy glance. That was another problem entirely. If Bai Ning wanted to spare it rather than extract its primal soul…

  To break the tension, Mo Jian spoke first. “It seems to trust you. Is this what they call a protagonist’s halo? Disasters pile up, everything that can go wrong does, and yet somehow, you still end up getting what you were after.” He smirked faintly, though the words carried a trace of genuine curiosity. “First the Ghost King, and now a lava dragon? What next—a legion from Daqin riding on nimbus clouds?”

  Bai Ning blinked, tilting her head. Fan Mei gave him a thoroughly perplexed look.

  “Protagonist’s halo? You really do say the strangest things, Brother Mo.” Fan Mei shook her head with an amused sigh before turning back to Bai Ning.

  “Bai Ning, you caught it, so the choice is yours. I won’t deny it—I still want its primal soul to serve as an artifact spirit for my guzheng—but the situation has changed. We wouldn’t have secured it without your help, and the danger far exceeded what I imagined.”

  She turned fully to face them both, lowering her head slightly. “I’m ashamed for putting you through such peril. Please accept my apologies.”

  Mo Jian was already waving her up, looking flustered. “Fairy Fan Mei, how can this be your fault? Such things happen. Please don’t take it to heart. After all the aid you’ve given us, it would be shameless for Bai Ning and I to treat this as anything more than a small mishap. Please, don’t lower your head.”

  Even Bai Ning nodded firmly. “Master is right, Senior. We walk the path of cultivation—danger is our constant companion. Besides,” she added, her voice softening into something wistful, “isn’t being able to escape and laugh about it later with friends something worth celebrating?”

  Fan Mei looked up, a faint, tremulous smile on her lips. “It seems I’m defeated. Then, instead of an apology, please accept my thanks. If I’d gone alone, I would surely have perished.” She paused, then continued in a teasing tone. “Though I didn’t expect you to turn philosopher on us, Junior Bai Ning.”

  Bai Ning’s expression immediately flattened. Whatever warmth she had felt for Fan Mei vanished in an instant. She rolled her eyes, refusing to answer—but Mo Jian, of course, seized the chance.

  “She memorized the entire Aradh Sutra just so she could sound wise and grown-up,” he said lightly.

  Bai Ning swatted him on the arm before he could continue. “Alright, alright! I’ll stop!” he cried, laughing despite the sting.

  Fan Mei’s smile turned genuine, her laughter bright and unrestrained. “That reminds me of when I studied tea ceremony just to appear more cultured before my first meeting with Lord Qing—only to find he didn’t care for it in the slightest. All that effort, completely wasted.” Her tone was light, but the fondness beneath it softened the air around them. For a brief moment, it felt like they were no longer cultivators hovering between life and death—but old friends, sharing the quiet after a storm.

  Then Fan Mei sobered, her expression turning measured. “Well,” she said, “what will you do? Do you wish to give me the beast, or release it into the wild? At rank four, it shouldn’t cause much trouble if freed.” She hesitated, but her gaze remained steady. Fan Mei prided herself on fairness; she would not deceive Bai Ning, even if honesty might cost her a prize.

  “If it’s too much for you, then I can take responsibility,” Mo Jian offered. His tone was gentle, but firm. He would prefer she hand it to Fan Mei—partly because it was the practical choice, and partly to spare her from having to make a hard decision. He understood her attachment, though. In his past life, people had kept pets for the same reason, even when it had seemed odd to him. Logically, giving it up was the best choice, but he wouldn’t force her hand. If she faltered, then he could step up.

  Bai Ning looked down for a long moment. Then she smiled faintly and met his eyes. “I am not a child anymore, Master. I am a grown woman.”

  She reached into her storage pouch and released her sword. The little green blade leapt into the air, expanding in a shimmer of light until it reached its true size. Without hesitation, it swung downward. A streak of sword-light flashed from the blade, too fast for the Niumowang to react. The blade cleaved deep, nearly splitting the beast in two. Blood splattered across Bai Ning’s robes; she made no move to shield herself with qi. A few drops struck her cheek, trailing down like molten rubies. She didn’t flinch—didn’t even blink—as she held Mo Jian’s gaze.

  Fan Mei’s fingers moved swiftly, forming a claw-like seal. A translucent copy of the Niumowang—the faint shape of its primal soul—rose from the corpse, struggling to flee. It gave a low, mournful cry, but Fan Mei’s qi was iron-strong; it couldn’t even tremble. She gestured with her other hand, summoning a jade vial from her storage pouch. The container opened with a hiss, swallowing the soul whole. With a flick of her wrist, she sealed it with a talisman, ensuring it would not escape.

  When she finally exhaled, her shoulders loosened in visible relief.

  Mo Jian had not moved during this time. He was taken aback by Bai Ning’s actions, yes, but it was the confidence and challenge in her eyes that caught him. They were alight with something fierce and resolute. The morning glow caught in her gaze—first a pale lavender, then deepening into amethyst. Her raven hair streamed freely in the wind, and the blood on her face gleamed gold and crimson under the light.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  She looked, he thought with a strange disquiet, like a woman grown. Confident and unyielding.

  When had that happened? When had the child he’d once guided become someone who could meet his gaze without flinching? It felt like only yesterday he had gifted her the silk ribbon she still used to tie her hair—back when she’d first broken into the eighth stage of Qi Condensation. And now, here she stood at Foundation Establishment, her blade steady, her will unshaken.

  He averted his eyes, feeling strangely embarrassed. Something bloomed in his chest—a warmth that wasn’t pride—or perhaps was, mixed with something more complicated. His lips parted as if to speak, but he found nothing suitable to say. Instead, he chose to give a small nod of acknowledgement and turned away, watching the sea pass below them.

  They flew on in silence for a while after that, the horizon ahead painted gold and crimson by the rising sun. The boat’s shadow glided over the clouds like a streak of ice cutting through flame.

  After a while, Mo Jian sighed and clasped his hands in a formal salute. “You can let us off here, Fairy Fan Mei. This spot will do. I intend to remain in seclusion for at least a year. That should be long enough for Han Wenqing and his mistress’s interest in Bai Ning to fade.”

  He glanced at Bai Ning, gauging her reaction. She nodded firmly. Good — they were in agreement.

  Fan Mei blinked at his words, then offered a small, rueful smile. “Of course, Brother Mo. I’ll do what I can to ease your path. I wish you fair winds and fortune ahead.”

  Yet, despite her polite tone, something weighed on her. Her lips parted as if to say more — then she hesitated, swallowing the words before they could escape.

  Bai Ning noticed. “Senior?” she prompted softly.

  Fan Mei bit her lower lip, torn between impulse and restraint. At last, she slapped her storage pouch. A black vial flew into her grasp, sealed with four restriction talismans.

  She stared at it for a long moment — weighing, measuring, deciding — before gritting her teeth and tearing the talismans away.

  Mo Jian’s concern mounted. He exchanged a tense look with Bai Ning, uncertain of what was unfolding.

  When Fan Mei uncorked the vial, a single, pale, almost colorless pill rolled into her palm.

  The sight struck Mo Jian like a blow. His breath caught; his eyes went wide. Bai Ning turned toward him in alarm, startled by his reaction.

  “A False Core Pill,” he rasped. “Fan Mei, you—”

  Fan Mei met his gaze and nodded, resignation etched across her face. She didn’t defend herself, only watched him in silence.

  Bai Ning’s confusion deepened until she could bear it no longer. “Master, what is it? I’ve never come across a False Core Pill in any of my readings.”

  Mo Jian was still stunned, but Bai Ning’s question pulled him back to himself. Shock warred with outrage inside him — part of him even wanted to step between Bai Ning and Fan Mei, as if shielding his disciple from danger. Yet he knew Fan Mei. She would not reveal something like this without reason. At least, he hoped she wouldn’t.

  “For good reason,” he said at last, his jaw tight. “It’s an unorthodox pill — one of the most infamous in existence. Just possessing it is enough to earn a death sentence. If Ancestor Qing knew about it…”

  He trailed off, but Fan Mei finished the thought, her voice heavy with weariness. “Then he’d likely kill me. I know, Brother Mo. Trust me — I know.”

  Mo Jian regarded the pill in her hand as though it were a venomous serpent coiled to strike. Bai Ning, however, leaned closer, curiosity overcoming caution. She studied it from all angles — it was a faint, chalky white sphere, like dust mixed with water and hardened into shape. There was nothing outwardly sinister about it. It emitted no foul qi, no aura of malice. Perhaps that was the most disturbing part.

  “What does it do?” Bai Ning asked quietly.

  Fan Mei rolled the pill between her fingers, eyes fixed on it rather than on them. “In essence, it accelerates cultivation. It can, in theory, be taken at any stage, though it’s most effective for those in the Foundation Establishment or early Core Formation realms. Beyond that, its effects taper off.”

  Bai Ning’s brows knit together. “That’s it? There are hundreds of cultivation aids scattered across the Thousand Shattered Islands. What makes this one so terrible?”

  Fan Mei hesitated, glancing at Mo Jian as if asking permission. He exhaled through his nose, then gave a faint nod. They were already too far in to turn back. Better that Bai Ning understand what she was truly looking at.

  “The reason it’s so reviled,” Fan Mei said at last, “is because of how it’s made. The main ingredient in a False Core Pill is the golden core of a Core Formation cultivator. Naturally, such a thing cannot be obtained peacefully — it’s always taken through murder. Then, the soul of the slain cultivator is burned as fuel to refine and bind the pill’s essence. That gives it its potency.

  “Even among unorthodox sects — where betrayal and bloodshed are practically a way of life — such an act is considered abhorrent. Not because it’s too cruel, but because a world where cultivators devour one another for strength is one that cannot sustain itself. Just the rumor that someone is refining such a pill is enough for the entire cultivation world to descend upon them and erase their name.”

  Bai Ning’s expression flickered between fascination and horror as she absorbed the explanation.

  Mo Jian gave a grim nod. “Wars have started over less. This pill… it’s the very definition of evil.” His gaze sharpened on Fan Mei, voice tinged with disbelief. “Where did you even find something like that?”

  “On a demonic cultivator’s corpse,” Fan Mei replied simply.

  Mo Jian studied her face for a long moment, then sighed and let the matter rest. There were more pressing questions now — such as why she had shown it to them at all.

  Because this was a remarkable show of trust. For all that Fan Mei, Mo Jian, and Bai Ning differed from the average cultivator, a False Core Pill was no trivial matter. Even close kin would hesitate to share knowledge of its existence — the secret alone could destroy entire clans. By revealing it, Fan Mei was quite literally placing her life in their hands. There had to be a reason for that.

  And only because it was Fan Mei, Mo Jian resisted the instinct to report it immediately.

  Still, caution demanded he ask. He steepled his fingers, eyes fixed on the pill in her hand. “And the reason you’re showing this to us, Fan Mei…” He left the rest unsaid, letting the silence complete the question.

  Fan Mei met his gaze squarely — not just his, but Bai Ning’s as well. Her expression was utterly sincere as she spoke.

  “I would not have managed to secure the Niumowang’s soul without you two. In truth, I might have died there. One good turn deserves another — so I am offering Bai Ning a choice.

  “This pill, if you choose to take it, could carry you to the peak of Foundation Establishment in mere months, instead of the years it would normally take, even for someone of your talent. I had originally planned to feed it to the Niumowang’s soul to forcibly raise it to Rank Five… perhaps even Rank Six. But it’s yours if you want it.”

  Bai Ning froze, clearly at a loss for words. Even Mo Jian fell silent, processing the offer — though part of his attention snagged on something else Fan Mei had said.

  “Raising an artifact spirit to Rank Six?” he echoed slowly. “So you were truly serious about attempting Nascent Soul.”

  Fan Mei gave him a weary, wry smile. “Yes. This pill has been a constant source of anxiety ever since I found it. I could never bring myself to destroy it, no matter how vile its origin, because its potential was simply too great. Yet I’ve lived in fear of discovery ever since.”

  She let out a long, shuddering breath before continuing. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let it corrupt me. But today, I almost broke that oath. Bai Ning can make better use of it than I ever could — and she needs it more, given Song Shaoyue’s interest in her. Besides, as I said, the Niumowang would never have been mine if not for her. I had to make the offer.”

  Bai Ning looked overwhelmed. “Senior, you…”

  But Mo Jian was already shaking his head. “It’s a poisoned offer, Fan Mei, and you know it. Bai Ning doesn’t need a pill like this. All it buys her is time — and she’s already blessed with more talent than most cultivators could dream of. She’ll reach the peak of Foundation Establishment soon enough on her own. Taking such a thing…” He exhaled sharply. “It’s a slippery slope. One evil act makes the next easier, until we start justifying darker and darker deeds. As your friend, I urge you — throw it away. Let the soul of the murdered cultivator find rest.”

  Fan Mei’s expression softened. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you, Brother Mo,” she said quietly. “You remember what you told me on Seamoon Island — that most cultivators are too busy chasing a better life to live the one they already have. I agree. I don’t want to end up like that either.”

  Her gaze dropped to the pill in her hand. “The ones who made this were irredeemable. But the pill itself? It’s blameless. Destroying it won’t undo what’s been done — it’ll just be a waste. Still…” She looked back up, meeting his eyes. “If you find it such an eyesore, I won’t object if Bai Ning chooses to destroy it. But it should be her choice. As she reminded us before — she’s a grown woman, and she has the right to make her own decisions.”

  Mo Jian’s expression wavered. He clearly didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue either. She was right. Bai Ning had come far, and she deserved the right to walk her own path — even if he disagreed with where it might lead.

  Bai Ning had closed her eyes, lost in thought. After a long silence, she opened them again, her gaze calm and resolved.

  But she didn’t reach for the pill. Instead, she turned to Mo Jian. “Master,” she asked softly, “would you ever take something like this?”

  Mo Jian didn’t hesitate. He shook his head firmly. “No. Never. I told you long ago, Bai Ning — I want to live well, not just live long. If chasing power means becoming a demon wearing my own skin, then it’s no life at all. I’d rather live half as long, but spend that time well — with friends, with family, eating good food, laughing, crying, and one day passing the torch to someone else. A tall tree might be majestic, but it’s also lonely. I’d rather spread my branches wide and share the shade.”

  Bai Ning’s expression remained still, but she nodded slowly. She remembered those words — one of her master’s first lessons. Chasing immortality was all well and good, but one had to remain human through it. If eternal life meant losing that, then what was the point? And truthfully, she agreed.

  She turned back to Fan Mei, her voice steady, her tone matching the older woman’s earlier sincerity. “Will it have any negative effects, or bring me any trouble, if I take it?”

  Fan Mei gave a faint smile at Bai Ning’s question, nodding approvingly at the thought behind it. “None,” she said. “The pill itself may be a horror, but it carries neither malice nor lingering taint. It can be taken and forgotten about. That’s what makes it so terrifying.”

  Mo Jian’s expression tightened in disapproval, though he said nothing. She wasn’t wrong — but he didn’t like where this conversation was heading.

  Bai Ning looked down at her lap, thoughts tumbling through her mind. Perhaps it was the memory of her earliest lessons with Mo Jian, but she found herself recalling her first day in his cave residence — the lesson he’d etched into her heart. A cultivator must be true to themselves. They did not need honesty, righteousness, or justice — only the courage to face the person they truly were.

  What, then, did she truly want?

  When she looked up again, her eyes were clear, her expression resolute. “Master, Senior Fan Mei,” she said evenly, “I want to take the pill.”

  Both of them looked at her — Fan Mei startled, Mo Jian grim.

  “When we faced Han Wenqing, when Chao Qinzi attacked my sect — all those times — I have never felt as helpless as I did then. It made me feel ashamed… small. I never want to be that powerless again. This pill can help me catch up. It can give me the strength I need.”

  She drew in a deep, steadying breath before continuing, her voice softer but no less firm. “And maybe this is just me justifying it to myself… but if I were the one who’d been killed and turned into a pill, I wouldn’t want to be thrown away. I’d want my death to mean something — for that power to be used so no one else suffers the same fate.

  “Maybe that isn’t true. Maybe the one who died to make this pill will curse me with their resentment. But even so…” She met Mo Jian’s eyes, then Fan Mei’s. “I can carry that burden. I’ll take their hatred — and use that power to make sure no more such pills are ever created.”

  Her words hung in the air, honest and heavy with conviction. Slowly, Fan Mei tipped the pill from her hand into Bai Ning’s. The younger woman received it with grim solemnity before tucking it away. The air seemed to ease, just slightly — as though some invisible weight had lifted.

  “Master…” Bai Ning began, but Mo Jian waved her off with a faint smile. It wasn’t as carefree as usual; he was clearly wrestling with himself. Part of him wanted to forbid this — and he knew she would listen if he did — but another part knew she needed to start making her own choices, even if he disagreed with them. Still—

  “—an apology at this stage will only weaken your conviction,” he said firmly. “You’ve made your choice, Bai Ning. Don’t regret it now. Just make sure you can live with the consequences.”

  Bai Ning bowed deeply, her voice steady. “I will, Master. I don’t intend to stray from the right path. Besides,” she added, her tone lightening, “I know you’d miss your adorable disciple if I weren’t around to keep you company.”

  Mo Jian snorted. “Already back to praising yourself?” he said, though the faint tension in his shoulders eased.

  Fan Mei smiled as well, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though nothing had changed — as though the dark conversation had never happened.

  Then Mo Jian straightened and offered her a formal salute. “Fairy Fan Mei, we really must take our leave — unless you have another soul-weighing revelation to spring on us?” His tone was wry, but there was an edge of genuine wariness beneath the jest.

  Fan Mei laughed, clasping her hands together and returning the salute. “Until next time, Brother Mo. Bai Ning. May the winds favor your journey.”

  They exchanged farewells, and then Mo Jian and Bai Ning rose into the sky in a streak of azure light. Fan Mei watched their figures fade into the horizon, a thoughtful look crossing her face, before she too vanished in a flash of silver.