Haiyun's voice trailed off, the roar of the essence-waterfall filling the silence. The mist curled in soft ribbons around them, carrying the faint fragrance of spirit herbs that grew wild along the cliff walls.
Tian Lei sat still, his chest tight. The image of Mu Qinxue—the teasing smile, the sly eyes, the way she never let a serious moment pass without poking fun—clashed violently with the tale of a girl who once carried a dying mother's wish like a torch and burned it into reality.
"…So she hid it all behind laughter," Tian Lei murmured.
Haiyun cracked a faint grin. "Laughter's a shield sharper than any blade, boy. It unsettles enemies, disarms friends, and keeps the world from prying too deeply. Do not mistake jest for weakness. The woman you call Master is like silk hiding iron."
Tian Lei's fists loosened, then clenched again. "…She named our entire sect after her caretaker? Not herself?"
