Shi Yang's jaw clenched as he stepped through the open gate, blade half-drawn, every muscle coiled for violence. The courtyard was eerily silent—no rustle of leaves, no whisper of night insects, just the faint creak of the open door swaying in the wind.
He moved like a shadow across the stone path, eyes sweeping over every corner, expecting the flash of steel, the hiss of an ambush. The tension only mounted as he pressed his palm against the frame and slid the door wider.
The interior was dim, lit only by a lone lantern guttering low. He stepped inside, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword—
And froze.
Han Jie lay sprawled on the wooden floor, her dark hair fanned out around her like spilled ink. Her body was uninjured, no signs of struggle, but her expression was unreadable—eyes wide open, locked on him the instant he entered.
For a long, suffocating heartbeat, they simply stared at each other.
Shi Yang's breath caught, the premonition in his chest twisting into something stranger, harder to name. He loosened his sword grip, though he did not sheath it, and took one slow step forward.
"…Han Jie?" His voice was low, cautious, almost disbelieving.
Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came. Only her gaze held him there, pinning him as surely as any blade.
"…Brother Shi…" she finally spoke, quickly sitting upright. "What are you doing here?!"
Her voice rose with surprise, and she quietly patted herself down. "Forget that unsightly scene—I was just resting a bit," she said, embarrassed that he had caught her lying on the floor in thought.
Does he think I'm a strange woman now? Han Jie turned and fetched a chair. "What brings you here so late at night?" She set the chair down. "Weren't you reconnecting with your nephew?"
Shi Yang looked at her and let out a relieved sigh. He leaned in, wrapping her in a quick, grounding hug.
"Brother Shi…?" she whispered softly, hugging him back. "You have no idea how worried I was about you."
After a pause, she drew back slightly, concern etching her features. "What happened? Are you hurt? Or… did that so-called nephew of yours do something?"
Shi Yang shook his head, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. Without a word, he leaned forward and pressed a brief, soft kiss to her forehead.
"When I left with Xiu Mei," he asked gently, "did anything unusual happen afterward?"
Han Jie shook her head. "No… well, actually, after you left, I ran into a few groups of men trying to steal our crimson fangs, but I handled them."
Shi Yang's eyes flicked toward the door, his expression hardening. "Pack your things. We leave the city tonight."
She froze, taken aback. "What… seriously? What happened?"
He let out a low breath. "I think the people from the auction are targeting us. Tonight… I nearly didn't make it. If I hadn't advanced in my Dao comprehension, I wouldn't have sensed the sneak attack placed on my life in time, and it would have been too late."
Han Jie's eyes widened, understanding the gravity of his words. The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the quiet urgency in Shi Yang's gaze.
"Please," Shi Yang said, his voice low but firm, catching her gaze. "Listen to me. Grab your clothes, valuables, and the snake fangs. Everything else we can't risk leaving behind."
Han Jie's hands moved quickly, gathering what she could—her daggers, medicinal pills, and a few other essentials. Shi Yang watched silently, ensuring she packed swiftly but carefully.
Once ready, they stepped into the night. The city's lanterns flickered faintly in the distance, the streets mostly quiet, yet every shadow seemed heavy with unseen eyes. Shi Yang's sharp gaze swept over the rooftops and alleys, calculating escape routes and possible threats.