The charred ruins still hissed with the sound of rainwater striking hot embers. Steam rose in ghostly wisps, curling and fading into the grey sky. Qian Renxue and Ghost Douluo moved with silent precision, their eyes scanning the rubble for any sign of life.
Just as they were about to split up and search opposite ends, a faint, ragged sound drifted through the air.
"…Arrhh…"
It was so soft that an ordinary person might have dismissed it as the wind. But both Qian Renxue and Ghost Douluo possessed senses honed far beyond the ordinary. Their gazes snapped toward the sound at the same moment.
"This way," Qian Renxue said quietly, and Ghost Douluo was already moving, his shadowy form gliding over the blackened ground.
The two reached a collapsed section of what might once have been a storage house. Broken beams and scorched stone lay in tangled heaps. Without hesitation, Ghost Douluo's hands began pulling away the debris, planks snapping, ash billowing into the air—until at last, a figure emerged from beneath.
It was Lu Ping.
He was barely recognizable. His clothes were shredded, his skin charred and blistered. Half of his face had been burned so badly that even the contours of his cheekbones had melted into raw, scarlet flesh. His right eye was swollen shut, but the left… it still flickered with life.
For the first time since arriving in this city, Qian Renxue let the last veil of illusion fall from her face.
She knelt down beside him, her golden hair glimmering faintly against the dark ruin, and said in a voice that was softer than she intended, "Sorry. It is my fault… for not being able to save you in time."
Her heart clenched. She didn't know if he could survive the journey to a healer.
But Lu Ping's remaining eye opened slightly, focusing on her face. Even now, his breathing shallow, the smell of burned flesh thick in the air, there was no despair in his gaze.
A crooked, almost pained smile touched his lips.
"Even… the Angel Goddess of the Order… is here," he rasped. "I'm… not going to die."
And then, his eyelid fluttered shut as consciousness left him.
Qian Renxue's fists tightened. It was her mistake for travelling without a healing-type soul master. Even with Ghost Douluo by her side, there were limits to what they could do. She could identify herbs, yes, but most required the patient to be awake to consume them. She could only apply some herbs externally at the moment. And without soul master's proper treatment, infection and fever would claim him before morning.
"Take him to the inn," she ordered, her voice low. "If he survives the fever… the most dangerous period will pass, and he might live." She turned her gaze to Ghost Douluo. "And send word to Spirit Hall. I want a healing soul master here at the earliest possible moment."
Ghost Douluo nodded once before vanishing like mist.
Above them, the rain finally ceased. Clouds thinned, and a pale shaft of sunlight broke through, casting light over the blackened ruins. It was as if the sky itself acknowledged the end of today's ordeal.
Yet Qian Renxue did not share the calm. She knew the truth that without immediate soul healing, Lu Ping's survival chances were slim. Still, she would try.
What neither she nor Ghost Douluo could foresee was that the sight of her unveiled face, in this moment between life and death, would etch itself deeper than any oath.
When Lu Ping woke again, his loyalty would no longer be that of a subordinate, but would be of a fanatic.
The birth of a fanatic who had seen an angel descend into the ashes to save him.
In the years to come, the continent would come to know him by another name- The Mad Hound of the Angel Goddess.
----
On the other hand, when Flender took Liu Erlong a distance away, he noticed something was off about her demeanor. Her steps were unsteady, and a faint flush colored her cheeks.
She spoke softly, almost in a whisper, "Flender…"
He immediately leaned closer, worry knitting his brows. "Yes, Erlong, I'm here. What is it?"
Her eyes avoided his. "I… got very dirty in the fight. I want to wash up… Let's go to an inn."
Flender's instincts screamed that something wasn't right. There was a strange tension in her voice, a heat in her breath, but the sight of her flushed face and shallow breathing made him hesitate. Against his better judgment, he nodded and led her toward a Hotel.
When they arrived, the innkeeper glanced at Flender oddly. Liu Erlong could barely stand upright, leaning heavily against him as if she were drunk or feverish. The old man's eyes twitched, clearly drawing his own conclusions.
"It's not what you think," Flender blurted defensively. "Really, this is a misunderstanding."
The innkeeper only smirked faintly and replied, "There is only one room remaining and Three silver coins for the night."
"What" Flender was about to argue when Liu Erlong said " Take the room Flender."
Flender grumbled under his breath, cursing the man's opportunism even as he paid. "Daylight robbery… three silvers for just spending a night."
Once inside the room, the door had barely shut before Liu Erlong stumbled toward the bed, collapsing onto it. The mattress creaked under her weight. Without a word, she began tugging at the clasps of her clothing.
Flender froze, his eyes going wide. He spun around and covered his face with one hand. "Erlong, what are you doing?! I… I should give you some privacy—"
But before he could take a step, her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist with surprising strength. Her voice trembled, but there was an edge of desperation in it. "Don't you dare run away from me… like Xiaogang did."
Flender's feet stopped mid-step. Those words pierced deep, shaking something in him.
In the back of his mind, an insistent voice whispered, 'Go ahead… don't turn away. This is your chance. All you need is to pursue harder'
The words came back to the back of his mind again and again.
His self-control wavered. For a few seconds, he hesitated then, slowly, he turned back toward her.
----
Downstairs, the innkeeper sat behind the counter, reading a worn novel. The quiet was broken by faint noises from the second floor—muffled, indistinct, but enough to bring a sly smile to his lips.
"It hasn't even been half an hour," he chuckled to himself, turning a page. "And yet someone swore it was all a misunderstanding."