Lian Xue walked ahead, her steps steady despite the weight in her chest. Her father followed just a pace behind, as if afraid that if he let her stray too far, the world might snatch her away.
Neither spoke as they made their way through the estate's dimly lit hallways. The soft sound of her feet gliding over polished stone mingled with the faint rustle of her father's robes.
When they reached her quarters, Lian Xue felt for the door and pushed it open. She paused only briefly on the threshold before stepping inside. To her surprise, she sensed her father linger behind her, and then, without a word, he entered and gently closed the door behind them.
She heard the soft clink of something in his hands — a delicate sound, like metal meeting metal.
"Xue'er," Lian Chengwu said softly. His voice was thick with emotion, warm yet brittle. She could hear the struggle beneath his words, the desire to protect her from a world that had given her so little kindness. "I want you to have this."
He stepped closer, and then she felt it — cool metal brushing against her skin as he fastened a chain around her neck. The pendant settled against her collarbone, small and smooth, its shape unfamiliar to her fingers but carrying the unmistakable weight of sentiment.
"It belonged to your mother," he said, his voice distant, as if pulled by memory. "She gave it to me before… before we parted ways. I kept it close all these years, and now… I think she'd want you to have it."
Lian Xue stood still, her fingers hesitating at the charm. She did not speak, but she listened — truly listened — to every tremor in his voice.
"Your mother…" Chengwu began again, almost as if the words would steady him. "She was the most extraordinary woman I ever met. Beautiful, yes — but so much more. She was so intelligent and brave. She had a spirit that couldn't be chained. When she smiled… the darkest nights seemed to suddenly see the sunrise. She would be proud of you, Xue'er. She would see in you all the strength she carried in herself."
Lian Xue's throat tightened, but she kept her silence. The pendant felt heavy now — not with weight, but with meaning.
After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice soft, almost fragile. "Where is she?"
The room seemed to hold its breath. Chengwu's hand, resting lightly on her shoulder, stiffened for a heartbeat. Then he withdrew it.
"There are some things, daughter… that are better left unspoken," he said quietly, his tone gentle but firm. "Some truths bring only sorrow — or danger. I want to protect you from that, at least. Please trust me."
Lian Xue said nothing. The silence that followed was not cold, but deep — like the surface of a still lake, hiding currents far beneath.
Taking her quiet as consent, or perhaps simply as a sign she needed peace, Chengwu sighed and moved toward the door. His hand rested on the frame for a moment, as if reluctant to leave.
"There is still hope," he said, his voice low, but laced with resolve. "We have time before the wedding. I will do what I can. Don't give up, Xue'er. Please — don't give up."
And then he left, closing the door softly behind him, leaving Lian Xue alone with the weight of the necklace and the storm of questions that no one seemed willing to answer.
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Lian Xue stood motionless for a long while after her father left. The soft click of the door shutting seemed to echo through the empty room, louder than it had any right to be. Silence settled around her like a heavy blanket, suffocating in its stillness. She remained where she was, head slightly bowed, hands clenched at her sides.
Her mind, however, was far from still.
She thought back to the council chamber—the oppressive air, the cold indifference of most of the elders, the calculating silence of the Jin patriarch. And Jin Wei. Though she could not see him and could not sense his presence the way a cultivator might, she could almost feel his gaze crawling over her skin. It was irrational, she knew. She had no spiritual sense, no means of detecting such a thing. But in that moment, in the suffocating quiet of the chamber, it was as if his lecherous eyes had reached out like hands, brushing across the curves the red dress could not conceal.
A shiver passed through her. The very thought of him made her stomach twist. Was this to be her life? A blind girl bartered like some useless trinket, given to a man like that? She had heard the servants' whispers, the hushed rumors that passed between kitchen hands and maids when they thought she wasn't listening. Jin Wei's appetites were no secret to those who paid attention. There were stories—ugly, sickening stories—of women he had taken and discarded, of bruises hidden beneath silken sleeves, of voices once bright reduced to fearful whispers.
Some said one girl had tried to run and was found days later, broken in body and spirit, cast aside like rubbish. Another was said to have gone missing entirely, her family paid handsomely to forget she ever existed.
Her fists tightened, nails biting into her palms. Is that what they intended for me? she thought bitterly. A life bound to that beast?
Lian Xue slowly crossed to the carved lotus on her door, the one she had traced so often in childhood. Her fingertips brushed its familiar lines, but the comfort it once offered was gone. She felt hollow. Alone. Betrayed by the family that should have protected her.
Her heart ached with the weight of it. She could not stay. If this is my fate, then better to choose my own end than be handed to him like a lamb for slaughter.
Her thoughts turned to the Emerald Mountains. Once, they had been the pride of the region, rich with spirit stones that drew cultivators from distant lands. Now, they were barren, wild, a place of desolation and danger. A place where demon beasts still roamed. Yes, she thought, a bitter kind of resolve hardening within her, the perfect place to disappear. To end this farce.
She imagined it: the cold wind on her face, the jagged stones beneath her feet. The mountains would be merciful where her family had not. If a beast took her life, so be it. It would be cleaner, kinder, than what awaited her in Jin Wei's house.
Lian Xue took a deep breath and turned from the door. If she were to go, it would have to be soon—before the marriage contract was sealed, before they could lock her in a cage of duty and obligation. Her heart raced with fear, but beneath it burned a fragile thread of determination.
First, she needed to find an opportunity to escape.
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The next morning, Lian Xue made her way outside to her usual spot — a stone bench tucked into the far corner of the courtyard. Today, she wore a blindfold, hoping that perhaps this small gesture would keep Bai Mu from sending her away as he had before. If the man found her unsettling, maybe concealing her unseeing eyes would spare them both the discomfort.
The familiar rhythm of fists and feet striking the training dummies filled the air, but to Lian Xue, the sounds felt strange today — distant, distorted, as though she were hearing them through water. Everything about the world felt off, as if the engagement, looming like a storm on the horizon, had thrown her senses out of balance. Perhaps it was simply because she sat here with a different purpose than usual. Today she wasn't only here to listen and dream of cultivation. Today she was here to think, to plan, to seek the cracks in her cage.
Time passed, marked by the steady cadence of punching, kicking, grunts of exertion, and Bai Mu's sharp commands. The instructor seemed especially focused on Lian Rui this morning, driving him harder than the others. Lian Rui, her seventeen-year-old half-brother, moved with precision and strength, his form the embodiment of discipline.
He was practicing the Winding Serpent Form — the method taught after the Stone Tiger Form, designed for those who had advanced to the fourth through sixth stages of Body Tempering. The Darkwind Kingdom had made such techniques freely available, their purpose clear: to strengthen the kingdom's military potential by ensuring even the humblest cultivator could rise to the Qi Gathering stage. The Stone Tiger honed raw strength; the Winding Serpent, by contrast, forged flexibility, speed, and the whip-like power of tempered tendons, veins, and ligaments.
Lian Xue could hear the difference in Rui's movements — the subtle, sinuous flow of his strikes, the snap of limbs that moved like a serpent's lash rather than a tiger's pounce.
"All right! Take five! Get some water in you and be ready to return stronger!" Bai Mu's voice rang out, firm but not unkind.
Lian Xue sat still, hands folded in her lap, as the sounds of practice faded and the rustling of servants and siblings filled the space instead. Her thoughts churned beneath the calm mask she wore. How could she escape this engagement? How could she slip past the estate's guards and unseen eyes? She had listened carefully the past day — to the shift changes, the lazy habits of certain sentries, the gossip of servants about gaps in patrols. There would be a way. There had to be.
Her concentration was broken by the sharp edge of a mocking female voice.
"Well, look at her — sitting there like some demure bride already. Are you practicing being obedient for your new husband, sister?" Lian Mei's voice dripped with venom, loud enough that even the servants nearby could hear.
Lian Xue remained motionless, her hands still folded in her lap, her blindfolded face turned slightly toward the voice. She did not need to see Lian Mei to picture the satisfied smirk surely tugging at her half-sister's lips. Lian Mei had always been this way — sharp-tongued, bitter, and eager to wound where she could.
Inside, Lian Xue felt the familiar sting, but she smothered it beneath layers of cold determination. Unfortunately, Lian Mei did not stop.
"I wonder if Young Master Jin will like his bride so silent. Maybe he prefers his women loud… or perhaps he'll beat the noise out of you." Her laughter rang across the courtyard, sharp as a slap.
The air seemed to grow heavier, and Lian Xue could feel the weight of the stares that followed. She could almost feel them, though she knew it was imagination — servants, siblings, and Bai Mu, all pretending not to hear but listening all the same.
Lian Xue kept her face serene, but her fingers curled slightly in her lap. The weight of those words settled in her chest like a stone. She wanted to lash out, to tell Lian Mei that she would never be Jin Wei's — but she knew it would only feed her sister's spite. She wouldn't give Lian Mei the satisfaction of a reaction. There would be time later to get her revenge.
Instead, she took a slow breath, forcing calm. Let her mock. Let them all think her powerless. The more they dismissed her, the easier it would be, when the time came, to slip their grasp.
This was just the first day. She had no plan yet — only a storm of fear and defiance in her heart. But the seed had been planted. She would find a way. She had to.
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The nights had come and gone, and with them Lian Xue had played her part well. In the days following the council's decree, she had sat dutifully at the training yard, listening to Bai Mu's barked commands and the rhythmic strikes of fists and feet against the dummies. She nodded politely when spoken to, remained silent when mocked, and kept her head bowed at the dinner table. She smiled faintly when her father spoke to her in soft, hopeful tones about finding a way to annul the engagement. To all the world, she appeared resigned — the dutiful daughter preparing to meet her fate.
But inside, the storm raged fiercer by the hour. And as the sun set each night, she lay awake on her mat, thoughts racing. She had spent these nights mapping the estate in her mind — each hall, each garden path, each guard's post. Though blind, she had lived here long enough to know every turn and doorway. She paid attention as servants whispered about the schedules of patrols and the changing of the night watch. Piece by piece, her plan formed.
And now, on the third night, it was time.
The estate was sealed on all sides by high walls of fitted stone, smooth and unyielding. The only true exit was the great front gate — guarded at all hours, with patrols passing through the courtyard and along the inner paths. She could picture it clearly in her mind, having stood before those gates many times as a child when her father left for business. She had memorized the sound of the heavy wooden doors groaning open, the sharp clatter of iron bolts drawn aside.
If she was to escape, it had to be through those gates. There was no other way.
The estate lay quiet beneath the pale wash of moonlight. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp stone and night blossoms. Lian Xue moved with slow precision, clad in dark robes that wouldn't catch the eye. Her fingers traced along the walls as she navigated familiar turns, each step measured. She had waited until the changing of the watch, when the guards were most distracted — and now she made her way toward the front courtyard, where the gate loomed beyond.
Her heart pounded as she crept through the shadows, every sound magnified in her ears: the whisper of wind, the faint creak of old wood, the soft thud of her own footfalls on stone.
Fate would not let her go so easily.
A sudden flicker of light — the flare of a lantern — and the unmistakable voice of one of the gate guards.
It was Guard Lin — not a bad man, but not a fool either. His tone was puzzled, not yet suspicious.
"Eldest Miss? What are you doing out here?"
Lian Xue forced herself to look calm, tilting her head slightly toward his voice.
"I—I couldn't sleep," she said, letting her voice tremble just enough to sound genuine. "I've had terrible dreams… I thought the night air might help clear my head."
Guard Lin shifted uncomfortably. "But it's dangerous at night. You should be inside, Eldest Miss."
"I know, and I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Would you fetch one of the maidservants to help me back? I think… I think I've lost my way."
Lin hesitated, torn between duty to escort her himself and her reasonable request. He didn't want to leave his post — nor did he want to manhandle the patriarch's daughter and risk offense.
Seeing his uncertainty, Lian Xue added gently, "You can leave me here for a second. I won't go anywhere, I promise."
Guard Lin finally nodded. "All right. Don't move from this spot."
Naturally, she was not going to listen to that.