Bai Ning could admit—grudgingly—that her dislike of Fan Mei was, at best, irrational.

  The other cultivator was always unfailingly kind, proper, and polite. A model of decorum. As a close friend of Bai Ning’s master, Fan Mei was not only her senior but someone to whom she owed a great debt. She was one of the rare few who knew the truth of Bai Ning’s real age and her rare cultivation talent—and yet, not once had she betrayed that trust.

  Nor was there any romantic entanglement to explain the unease. Fan Mei, officially, was the concubine of Ancestor Qing—one of the three Nascent Soul cultivators in the Thousand Shattered Islands. By every public measure, her relationship with Bai Ning’s master was one of friendship. Even if some hidden feelings lingered beneath the surface, Bai Ning was certain they weren’t from her master’s side. The man was far too oblivious to recognize subtle emotions, let alone respond to them.

  And yet, for all those perfectly sound reasons, Bai Ning disliked her.

  “Fairy Fan Mei,” her master, Mo Jian, greeted enthusiastically, hands clasped in a formal salute.

  They stood on one of the countless unremarkable islands in the Tail Star Archipelago—a trail of broken, scattered stones that linked the mainland to the Thousand Shattered Islands. Like its many siblings, the island was rugged and mountainous, with hardy greenery growing in every crevice. A small peak rose at its center, though Fan Mei had clearly lopped off its top to create a flat surface for their meeting.

  “Brother Mo,” Fan Mei replied fondly. “And of course, junior Bai Ning. Your progress never ceases to amaze me. Congratulations on reaching Foundation Establishment.”

  She waved her hand with casual grace, and a low table appeared before them, laden with steaming cups of spirit tea.

  Mo Jian settled immediately before the table, folding his legs as he sat. Bai Ning followed more slowly, offering Fan Mei a polite nod in return.

  Being acknowledged by someone of Fan Mei’s stature should have filled her with pride—and it did. Yet, as always, something about the woman set her on edge.

  Still, she thought—perhaps unfairly—it wasn’t unexpected. As a Foundation Establishment cultivator, she now stood on somewhat firmer ground. True, her master and Fan Mei had advanced further, but she was no longer the child she once had been.

  For a moment, the three of them simply sipped their tea, letting a companionable silence settle over the gathering. Then her master stirred, setting his cup down with a contented sigh.

  “Your tea is top-notch as always, Fairy Fan Mei,” Mo Jian said warmly. “Just a single sip is enough to make this trip worthwhile on its own.”

  Lady Fan smiled modestly. “You praise me too highly, Brother Mo. Should I take that to mean you came for my tea rather than the pleasure of my company?”

  Both her master and Fan Mei laughed, like old friends sharing a long-running joke. Bai Ning gritted her teeth and took another sip of tea to mask her irritation. To make matters worse, it really was excellent.

  Fan Mei placed her cup down with practiced grace, then flicked a talisman into the air. It hovered above their heads, and a soft silver dome shimmered into place around them, cutting off all sound from the outside.

  Bai Ning’s gaze lingered briefly on the noise-suppressing talisman before she turned her attention back to the table.

  “To business, then?” Mo Jian asked, his smile fading slightly into something more focused. He flicked up a talisman of his own, which hovered beside Fan Mei’s. This one glowed with golden radiance, and an illusory mist spread outward, concealing them from any prying eyes.

  Bai Ning wasn’t surprised. She was used to such precautions; her master was a cautious man—and so was Lady Fan Mei.

  “I’ll admit, your note was quite intriguing, Brother Mo,” Fan Mei said, her tone light but laced with interest. “I know the Ming family auction was quite the event, but you made it sound as if something truly portentous occurred. So tell me—how can I be of help?”

  She spread her hands in an inviting gesture, her wide sleeves catching the breeze and fluttering back like the wings of a crane.

  Mo Jian drummed his fingers on the table between them, glancing at Bai Ning to see if she would speak first. She merely sipped her tea, head bowed, clearly unenthused at the idea of asking this woman for help.

  When she remained silent, Mo Jian began, “Were you aware of the Song family’s involvement, Fan Mei? I admit I was not, and it came as a rather... dangerous surprise.”

  Fan Mei’s smile faded. She shook her head solemnly. “No one was, Brother Mo. I didn’t attend precisely because of how it might reflect on Lord Qing, but when news reached him, even he was taken aback. Of course, everyone knows this by now, but the first thing he did was contact his informants on the mainland. Song Shaoyue is the disgraced daughter of the Song clan head. The details are murky, but she was exiled from her family’s lands—and it seems she’s chosen the Thousand Shattered Islands as her new home.”

  She paused, expression hardening. “Much to the Ming family’s misfortune.”

  Mo Jian gave a thin, unsympathetic smile. “At least they’re still alive. She could have wiped out the entire clan—and who could have stopped her?”

  “Being a prisoner in one’s own home is hardly what I’d call fortunate,” Fan Mei replied, tone dry. “But yes, they were spared from outright slaughter. On the other hand, this new faction clearly has no backing from the Song clan, so it makes sense for them to show restraint. They don’t want to provoke every power in the Thousand Shattered Islands. Only a handful of the Ming family’s closest allies were killed. Apart from that, every other auction participant was allowed to leave.”

  She poured herself another cup of tea, the soft sound of liquid splashing filling the brief silence. Her voice shifted, dropping slightly. “The Nascent Soul cultivator made sure of it personally.”

  Mo Jian’s head snapped up, and beside him, Bai Ning mirrored his surprise. “Wait—Han Wenqing pursued and killed those cultivators himself? When would he have had the time? He wasted enough of it chasing after us.”

  Fan Mei’s brows lifted, surprise flickering across her face before giving way to concern. “He came after you? That explains it…” She shook her head and refocused. “He has some sort of divine cloning ability. Reports say he appeared in more than a dozen locations, hunting down a dozen different cultivators at once.”

  She shrugged, almost helplessly. “Who can say? He’s from the mainland—he likely knows techniques most cultivators here would kill to possess.”

  Mo Jian grunted, frowning into his cup. He had thought Han Wenqing’s pursuit was personal—that they’d somehow earned his attention. Knowing now that they hadn’t been singled out was both comforting and deeply unsettling. The situation wasn’t as dire as he’d feared… but it was still a situation.

  He sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Truth be told, Fairy Fan Mei, that encounter is what brought me here today.”

  Fan Mei tilted her head, expression inquisitive.

  “I won’t pretend otherwise,” Mo Jian continued. “The Ming family hired me to handle a few small errands related to the auction. Nothing major. But somehow Song Shaoyue caught wind of it—and decided to toy with me. Apparently that was enough to send her Nascent Soul guardian after me and Bai Ning.”

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  He gave a tired laugh. “He saw through Bai Ning’s bone age at once. He mentioned he was impressed, and that his mistress would like to take her in as a disciple.”

  Fan Mei straightened, her composure slipping for the first time. “He said that?”

  Bai Ning slumped a little, gaze fixed on her cup.

  Fan Mei’s eyes flicked between them. “And yet you’re both sitting here. How?”

  Mo Jian hesitated. Then, with a resigned breath: “We used Ancestor Qing’s name. Or rather—I mentioned that Bai Ning and I were under your protection, and implied that the Ancestor was aware of her talent.”

  Fan Mei’s lips parted. She went very still, one hand rising to her mouth—whether from alarm or calculation, it was hard to tell. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured, like she was going over every word twice.

  “That… might hold,” she said slowly. “If Lord Qing learns you invoked his name without consent, the consequences will be severe. But if you only implied it—and I make it public that Bai Ning is my student or a close acquaintance—it could pass. As long as Han Wenqing doesn’t seek a direct audience with Lord Qing. And he likely will not, without due cause.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Risky, but possible.”

  Mo Jian exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief. “That’s… good news. I’ve been worrying about this for the last two weeks. You have my gratitude, Fan Mei—you’re a true friend.”

  He nudged Bai Ning with his elbow. “Go on, disciple. Say thank you.”

  Bai Ning shot him a glare but inclined her head politely. “Thank you, Senior Fan Mei. Though, just to be clear, I’m not your—”

  Mo Jian’s hand clamped down on her shoulder, a little desperately, cutting her off mid-sentence. He tried to both glare at her and simultaneously shoot an apologetic look at Fan Mei.

  For her part, the woman looked amused once more. In fact, she seemed like she was trying to refrain from outright laughing. “Of course, Bai Ning. I’d never dream of standing in the way of you and your master.”

  The way she said it—like she understood something Bai Ning didn’t, like she was humoring a stubborn child—made Bai Ning’s hackles rise all over again. This. This was exactly why she didn’t like this woman. Fan Mei was such a pain in the ass.

  The wind shifted. A faint salt tang rose from the sea below, stirring the hems of their robes. Mo Jian and Fan Mei sipped their tea in easy silence, but Bai Ning set her cup down a little harder than intended. The quiet clink of porcelain sounded sharp in her ears.

  Fan Mei’s laughter had faded into a small, knowing smile. She took another sip of tea, as serene as if nothing of consequence had just been discussed. “Well,” she said lightly, “if that’s the worst of it, I suppose I can help tidy up the mess. I’ll make a few public appearances in the coming weeks—mention your name, Bai Ning, perhaps even hint at some shared lessons. That should lend the illusion a bit more weight.”

  Mo Jian bowed his head deeply. “I’m in your debt.”

  Fan Mei waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. You’ve helped me enough in recent years. I suppose this makes us even.”

  Mo Jian grinned, relieved to be back on familiar ground. “Come now, Fan Mei. You’ve done just as much for me. I insist on offering something in return.”

  He reached into his sleeve and placed a jade slip on the table between them. “A safe passage through the Cosmic Bubble Chasm. It doesn’t lead anywhere particularly valuable, but it’s fast and stable. I’ve only shared it with the Greater Dharma Sect, and they swore not to leak or overuse it. It should cut any journey east by several weeks—and spare you the usual risks.”

  Fan Mei had opened her mouth to protest, but as he spoke, her expression shifted. By the time he finished, her fingers were already wrapped around the jade slip.

  She shook her head in quiet amazement. “Brother Mo, I’ll never understand how you keep finding things like this. A safer route through the Bubble Chasm, hidden from the major sects? You could make a fortune off that alone, if you managed it properly. Tell me—how do you keep stumbling across these opportunities?”

  Bai Ning was curious about that as well—though not about the route itself. What she wanted to know was where her master kept finding all those rare and valuable treasures. First, it had been the Star Iron. Then the core of a Wood Dragon. After that, a place to harvest Tribulation Lightning, and even the burial ground of a long-forgotten cultivator.

  One stroke of luck could be believed. Two, perhaps. But this many, in such a short span? She’d asked him about it before, directly and more than once. Her master always deflected—laughed it off, called it luck, or claimed fortune smiled kindly on them.

  “Luck,” he said again now, smiling like he was pleased with himself.

  Bai Ning barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

  Fan Mei snorted—an unladylike sound she quickly smothered behind her hand. “Very well,” she said, amused. “Luck it is.”

  She smiled at Mo Jian, and Bai Ning let it go on for a moment, before deciding that was quite enough of that. Before either of them could get lost gazing into the other’s eyes, or something equally as inane, she elbowed her master firmly in the ribs.

  He jumped, startled, shooting her a mild glare.

  Feigning innocence, Bai Ning tilted her head. “What of the map, Master? And the threat Han Wenqing made?”

  “Ah.” His expression fell, cheer draining away. “That.”

  Fan Mei straightened at once, her tone sharpening. “A threat from Han Wenqing? And you didn’t think to mention that earlier?”

  Mo Jian exhaled through his nose, clearly not liking the implication. “I was getting to it, Lady Fan Mei. It hardly changes the story.”

  He drained the last of his tea, grimaced, then continued. “As part of my payment from the Ming family, I was allowed to claim one item from their auction for free. I chose a map—a guide to some ancient cultivator ruins. Of course, given how the auction ended, the map was the last thing on my mind when we fled. I’d nearly forgotten it. But Han Wenqing… returned it to me.”

  Fan Mei frowned. “Returned?”

  Mo Jian nodded. “He gifted it to me after the chase. Called it both a token of apology and a promise. Said his mistress would have need of me in the future, and that the map was payment in advance.”

  He shrugged. “I took it as a gesture of courtesy—and warning. Proof that they knew exactly who we were, and a way to offer something without giving anything of real value. As you said, they can’t afford to make enemies of everyone in the Thousand Shattered Islands.”

  He paused, then added almost casually, “I gave it to Bai Ning. I doubt I can decipher it anyway, and she’s been wasting an hour every day trying to unravel its secrets.”

  “It’s not a waste, Master.” Bai Ning protested at once. “You said it yourself—a pre-Shattering ruin is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If I can decode the map, we could profit immensely. Besides, you shouldn’t have taken it if you didn’t intend to make use of it. I’m just… treating it properly.”

  She gave him a superior look. He rolled his eyes, long-suffering.

  The truth was, he did have a way to use the map—but only under very specific conditions. And if, by some miracle, Bai Ning managed to make sense of it first, all the better. Not that he expected her to. In the story, it was the hero who deciphered it—only because he knew the dead language it was written in.

  Fan Mei let their byplay pass a word. Now, her gaze turned thoughtful, and she bit her lip lightly, as though working through a problem.

  “I can see why you didn’t mention it earlier,” she said finally. “But I don’t agree with your reading of it, Brother Mo. It could be a peace offering, yes—but it might just as easily be a leash. A way to tie you to them without you realizing it.”

  Mo Jian frowned. “You think that’s likely?”

  Fan Mei’s eyes flicked briefly to Bai Ning before she answered. “Normally, I’d say no. But now that Song Shaoyue knows about your disciple’s… unique talent? That changes things. Gaining the loyalty of someone with such potential is no small temptation. She may try to pull you both into her orbit.”

  Bai Ning’s expression soured immediately.

  Mo Jian couldn’t help sympathizing. You’d think that having a heaven-defying talent would make life easier—but it seemed to attract trouble at every turn.

  Still, he told himself, Core Formation. Everything would change once Bai Ning reached that stage. Once she formed her core, few would dare trouble her again—and even Nascent Soul monsters would think twice.

  If only getting there didn’t feel so far away.

  Letting the moment settle, Mo Jian poured himself a fresh cup of tea and inhaled the aroma before taking a slow, appreciative sip. The wind shifted again, stirring their sleeves and sending the steam between them swirling like ghostly ribbons.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “That’s an unfortunately good point—and it makes my earlier decision all the wiser. I don’t intend to linger, Fan Mei. Once Bai Ning completes her stabilization cycle, we’ll head to a remote island for a time. Somewhere quiet. Away from all this… excitement.”

  “Good.” Fan Mei’s expression softened, relief flickering briefly across her face. “Lay low, let things settle. Song Shaoyue will be busy consolidating her power—and hopefully too preoccupied to come looking for you. With luck, this storm will pass before it ever reaches your shores.”

  Then, unexpectedly, her composure faltered. A small, almost sheepish smile curved her lips. “At least, that’s what I should be saying.”

  Mo Jian raised an eyebrow in interest.

  “But,” Fan Mei continued, voice a little rueful, “if you have the time—and the appetite—for a bit of risk, then I may have a request for the two of you.”

  She glanced at the jade slip Mo Jian had offered her earlier. Her fingers lingered on it for a moment, tracing the edges as though second-guessing herself, before she squared her shoulders and slid it back across the table. The motion was slow, reluctant—like she was parting with something dear.

  “If you insist on offering a reward, Brother Mo,” she said at last, “then I have a different idea in mind.”

  Mo Jian blinked, caught off guard by both her tone and the gesture. “A request, is it?” he asked lightly. “From you, no less? Now you’ve made me curious.”

  At his side, Bai Ning took a deliberate sip of her tea—mostly to keep from saying something along the lines of, I’m not. Couldn’t Fan Mei just leave already? And why did her master have to look so interested all of a sudden? He treated half of Bai Ning’s suggestions with exasperation and the other half with suspicion. Typical. Absolutely typical.

  Fan Mei’s smile widened, transforming her usually composed face into something bright and almost mischievous. “How would you feel,” she said conspiratorially, “about braving the Lava River with me?”