Night wind carried the scent of pine needles and mountain streams as disciples gathered beneath an ancient tree whose branches spread like protective arms. Fire crackled at their small camp's heart, painting tired faces in warm gold while shadows danced across weathered bark like restless spirits.
Xinyu sat apart from the others, knees drawn to his chest, eyes unfocused as pain bloomed at the base of his skull. The dull throb in his neck had returned with vicious intensity—deeper, crueler than before. An invisible hand seemed to claw at his very essence.
When conversations grew loud enough to mask his movement, he slipped away toward the riverbank like a ghost seeking solitude.
Cold water stung his fingers as he splashed it against fevered skin, but the relief was fleeting as morning dew. His breath hitched. The agony was building again, swelling like a tide threatening to drown him from within.
He gritted his teeth until they ached.
There, caught in moonlight's silver embrace, a jagged stone gleamed with cruel promise.
With trembling hands, he lifted it, turning the rough surface in his palm. Just one scar, his desperate mind whispered. Perhaps it would weaken this cursed mark enough to let me breathe. Enough to survive this endless night.
He raised the stone like an offering to uncaring stars.
"Yu-ge—don't."
A hand closed around his wrist with gentle but unyielding strength.
The stone tumbled from nerveless fingers, disappearing into dark water with barely a splash.
Bai Mochen materialized behind him like shadow given form, voice low and resonant with unexpected concern. His eyes held an otherworldly gleam in the silver light.
"Don't harm yourself so carelessly."
Xinyu's lips trembled like autumn leaves. "Let go."
Yet his body refused to pull away.
Mochen guided him from the water's edge to a narrow cave hidden by curtains of moss and ivy. Within that stone sanctuary, where dripping water sang lonely songs, he seated Xinyu with reverent care.
"Gege," Mochen whispered, kneeling before him like a supplicant before an altar, "I know how to suppress the mark."
Xinyu's breath caught. "What... mark?"
"The one burning your neck," Mochen replied, voice soft as silk hiding steel. "Near your shoulder. I witnessed its torment before."
Surprise flickered across Xinyu's features. "I never realized..."
Mochen leaned closer, their breath mingling in the cave's intimate confines. "Do you trust me?"
Silence stretched between them like spider's silk—fragile, trembling with unspoken possibilities. The cave was cold as winter's heart, yet Mochen's presence radiated inexplicable warmth.
After an eternity, Xinyu offered the slightest nod.
Without warning, Mochen moved closer. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with dangerous energy. Then—Xinyu's eyes widened in shock.
Mochen's lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck.
Sharp pressure flowed through him—not painful but strange, almost burning. Spiritual energy surged in powerful waves, pressing into the cursed mark. Xinyu gasped like a drowning man finding air.
"What... what are you doing..." he whispered, hands rising to push away the source of this overwhelming sensation. "Stop..."
But his limbs felt heavy as lead, his body flushed with foreign heat.
And Mochen—he didn't cease.
A killing frost crept into their sanctuary.
"Bai Mochen."
A voice sharp as unsheathed steel shattered the moment's spell.
A figure stepped into the cave's mouth, eyes like obsidian blades promising death.
Before another heartbeat passed, Hua Ling's hand seized Mochen's collar and yanked him backward with violent force.
Startled, Xinyu clutched his neck, blinking rapidly as awareness slowly returned.
"Your Highness—" Mochen's carefully constructed composure cracked like ice in spring.
Hua Ling ignored him completely. His gaze locked onto Xinyu—flushed, panting, the glow of suppressed agony still fading from his delicate features.
Without a word, he grasped Xinyu's wrist and pulled him upright. The younger man stumbled, legs unsteady.
"H-His Highness?" Xinyu stammered, confusion painting his voice. "What are you—"
"Didn't I warn you," Hua Ling said with winter's cruel precision, "not to involve yourself with strangers?"
"But..." Xinyu glanced back toward the cave's depths. "He helped me. The pain—it's gone now."
"Nonsense," Hua Ling snapped.
---
They sat beneath starlight's cold witness, side by side beneath another ancient tree. Xinyu's breathing slowly evened like troubled waters finding peace.
After silence stretched like pulled silk, he whispered, "Your Highness... are you still angry with me?"
Hua Ling offered no answer.
"The mark," Xinyu continued softly, voice barely louder than wind through leaves. "It's been torturing me for about a week. I don't understand what it is. Mochen said it's near my neck..."
"Don't dwell on it," Hua Ling commanded curtly. "And tell no one. Hide it well."
Xinyu turned to study him. Moonlight painted the prince's profile in sharp, ethereal strokes—beautiful in a way that transcended mortal understanding.
"Why?" he asked. "Is something truly happening?"
Hua Ling slowly turned his head, expression unreadable as ancient stone.
"Xinyu," he said quietly, "don't get on my nerves too much."
"Huh?" Xinyu blinked in indignation. "I've done nothing wrong! You're the one who followed me—why scold me now?"
"Continue this behavior," Hua Ling warned with silky menace, "and I'll carry you back to the sect myself."
Xinyu folded his arms, sulking like an offended cat. Why is he like this? I swear I'll punch him someday. Always acting as if I'm the source of all problems.
"No, no, no, don't send me back!" he finally blurted. "I'll behave, I promise!"
"See that you do."
---
Back at camp, panic bloomed like poisonous flowers.
"Where is Xinyu?" And his highness "Lu Rourou sniffled, eyes wide with worry. "What if wolves devoured them both?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Lan Xueyao sighed with the patience of a saint. "They're cultivators, not helpless rabbits."
"Still... what if they're lost?" Yan Zheng's frown deepened with concern.
Shen Yao snapped his fan open with theatrical flair. "Perhaps they eloped together under moonlight's romantic embrace~"
"WHAT?!"
Chi Ruyan's expression twisted into something ugly. "Shen-shixiong, mind your tongue. Don't spread vicious rumors about His Highness."
"Aiya, no need for such fury." Shen Yao grinned with malicious delight. "You'll wrinkle that pretty face."
Chi Ruyan's fists clenched until knuckles went white as bone.
Chen Xinyu... you truly need to disappear from this world.
She melted into the forest's shadows like dissipating smoke.
---
Far from camp's warm light, beneath pale moon's cold witness, Xinyu dozed sitting upright, too exhausted to seek proper rest. His eyelids fluttered like caged butterflies, body slumping with bone-deep weariness—
Until Hua Ling shifted closer with fluid grace.
Without words, without acknowledgment, he allowed Xinyu to lean against his shoulder.
The younger man murmured something unintelligible in sleep's embrace.
Hua Ling remained motionless as carved jade, gazing down at the mark glowing faintly beneath Xinyu's collar like a trapped star.
Why is it growing stronger?
That man... Mochen... he knows something.
His brows furrowed with cold determination.
No matter the cost, I won't let him take you.
---
When Qingze finally returned to the anxious group, Yan Zheng immediately questioned him.
"What of His Highness?"
"No concerns," Qingze replied with professional calm. "He's handling a matter."
Relief rippled through the gathered disciples.
"What about Xinyu?" Rourou asked with continued worry.
"I believe he's with his highness," he added . "He'll protect him—don't worry!"
Yan Zheng nodded slowly. "Very well. We'll advance tomorrow. The Spirit Echo Cave awaits."
None noticed the dark shadow slipping through ancient trees like death's messenger.
Or the silent fury smoldering behind violet eyes.
---
Dawn broke slow and amber over the forest, spilling liquid gold between towering trees whose branches formed a cathedral of living green. A gentle breeze whispered secrets through the canopy—cool and dry, brushing skin like autumn's first kiss. Somewhere nearby, a stream sang over smooth stones while birds offered their lazy morning chorus.
Chen Xinyu walked beside Hua Ling beneath the thick canopy of this ancient woodland sanctuary.
Peace settled over them like a comfortable cloak.
"Ahhhh..." Xinyu groaned, rubbing his complaining stomach. "I'm starving..."
Hua Ling arched one elegant brow. "Aren't you a cultivator? Why do you hunger so frequently?"
Xinyu thought darkly, *One day... one day I'll grow strong enough to smack you right on that arrogant head, Your Highness.*
But he merely huffed, "His Highness seems violently opposed to people finding small joys in life."
Hua Ling gave a short, cold laugh. "Ridiculous."
Yet he slowed his measured pace, dark eyes scanning the forest with practiced awareness. A moment later, he veered from their path without explanation. Xinyu watched in bewilderment as Hua Ling silently plucked ripe fruits from a hidden tree, dusted them on pristine sleeves, and returned.
"Here," he said, tossing one to Xinyu with studied indifference. "So you won't drag me down."
Xinyu caught it with wide eyes. "Waaah, Your Highness's survival instincts are incredible! So swift, so precise..."
Hua Ling gave him a long, unreadable look.
Ridiculous, he thought, turning to walk ahead once more.
"Wait for me," Xinyu called, hurrying to match the prince's longer strides. He munched happily on the sweet fruit, juice running down his chin like liquid sunshine. After several bites, he glanced at the remaining piece in his palm, then hesitantly extended it forward.
"Dianxia, try it—it's delicious."
Hua Ling didn't pause in his steady advance.
He glanced at the offered fruit, then brushed Xinyu's arm aside with a casual flick of his sleeve.
"Don't want it," he muttered. Then, quieter, to himself: "...you fool."
Xinyu huffed, catching up again with determined energy. "Why move so quickly? Still harboring grudges about the mud I threw during the welcoming ceremony?"
He smirked with mischievous delight. "His Highness holds grudges admirably. You do, don't you?"
He could already envision it—that flash of princely irritation.
He'll get furious now. Hehe...
But then, Hua Ling stopped abruptly.
His gaze sharpened, alert as a hunting hawk. He turned slightly, scanning the trees behind them with predatory focus.
Xinyu blinked. "What is it, Dianxia?"
"We're being followed," Hua Ling stated flatly. "Come out. I know you're there."
A rustle disturbed the forest's morning peace.
Then, with steps soft as falling petals, a young woman emerged onto their path.
She was breathtaking in ways that stole words from tongues—tall, elegant, with long hair flowing like spilled ink and eyes clear as mountain jade. Her presence carried an aura of quiet power wrapped in confusion.
"Forgive me," she said, offering a graceful bow. "I became lost. I was searching for someone... so I followed your voices."
"State your purpose," Hua Ling demanded, voice cool as winter streams. "Whom do you seek?"
The mysterious girl smiled faintly. "Someone who's rather... dull-witted."
Hua Ling instinctively turned to look at Xinyu.
"Why are you staring at me?" Xinyu protested hotly. "I'm not that stupid!"
Hua Ling said nothing, continuing forward with regal bearing. "You may accompany us," he told the girl with casual authority. "But any suspicious movement... and your life is forfeit."
She bowed again, but her eyes sparkled with hidden mirth.
As they walked, Xinyu glanced sideways at their mysterious companion. "Miss, what's your name?"
"...Xiao Que."
Xiao Que...? Xinyu blinked in puzzlement. Why does that name sound familiar...?
"I'm Xinyu," he offered politely. "Pleasure to meet you."
She didn't respond immediately.
Instead, she deliberately slowed her pace until Hua Ling walked a comfortable distance ahead, positioning herself beside Xinyu alone. Then she leaned close and whispered with urgent secrecy:
"You complete fool, it's me—Lingque."
Xinyu nearly choked on air. "What?! How?! Aren't you a chicken?!"
She smacked the back of his head with practiced precision. "Peacock, you absolute moron!" Three more swift strikes followed. "PEACOCK!"
"Okay, okay—OW! Now I definitely know it's you!"
"I thought I'd lost you," he muttered, rubbing his abused skull.
Lingque rolled her eyes with exaggerated exasperation. "You wandered off with that demon spawn Mochen. If His Highness hadn't appeared, you would've been devoured—completely devoured, do you understand?!"
She sighed with dreamy appreciation.
"Ahhh... but His Highness... so magnificently cool... the way he seized Mochen, that deadly glare... exactly my type."
Xinyu stared in horror. "Even my spiritual beast is infatuated with him?!"
She smacked him again for good measure.
Further ahead, Hua Ling slowed slightly, sharp ears catching fragments of their whispered conversation.
They immediately fell silent.
Xinyu thought rebelliously, Hmph. He's probably suspicious. Or jealous. Or both. But it's none of his imperial business!
Still, he quickened his steps to close the distance.
Lingque followed with hands clasped behind her back, humming a melody soft as wind chimes.
Xinyu studied her with growing curiosity. She can assume human form now? Does that mean her power is increasing? What else is she hiding from me?
And beneath all his questions, a whisper lingered in his heart's deepest chambers—
Why did she say Mochen almost devoured me? What's the truth about this soul mark...?
The air grew cooler as they ventured deeper into the forest, toward the legendary Cave of Spirit Echoes where destiny awaited.
Leaves crunched beneath their feet like nature's own percussion.
Three figures walking together through dappled sunlight and shadow.
Each harboring secrets they had yet to voice, each carrying pieces of a puzzle whose complete picture remained hidden in mist and mystery.