Night had long fallen, and the sect grounds lay in deep silence, disturbed only by the soft rustling of leaves. Yet Qinghui was still following Lan Zeyan, refusing to be left behind.
"Wait! Can't you take me there tomorrow instead? I can't just sit here doing nothing," Qinghui protested.
Lan Zeyan didn't slow his steps. "You heard the sect leader. You are to remain and rest."
There was no room for debate in his tone. It was clear he had no intention of bringing Qinghui along.
What irritated Qinghui most was that Lan Zeyan wouldn't even look back as he spoke.
"You think I'm weak, don't you?" Qinghui snapped. "For your information, I am a cultivator too!"
He wasn't entirely sure if that was true—but he had Qi, something normal people didn't possess. That had to mean something.
"Being a cultivator means little," Lan Zeyan replied, tone cool. "Even so, you failed to protect yourself from the Root of Sentiment. What difference does it make? Cultivator or not, you're weak—and on this mission, a burden."
Qinghui froze.
His fists clenched. Weak? That word struck deeper than he'd like to admit. It was because I was disoriented back then... I wasn't ready.
Seeing Qinghui no longer behind him, Lan Zeyan paused briefly and said without turning around, "It's best you simply do as you're told."
Then he left.
Qinghui stood still under the night sky, bitter wind brushing past him. His eyes drifted toward a sacred-looking tree not far off—the one he'd noticed earlier when he first arrived.
"If you didn't want me coming along," he muttered to himself with a smirk, "you should've chained me."
He crouched low, tiptoeing across the sect grounds like a thief with a plan.
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—the exit wasn't difficult to find. It stood wide and prominent, with no visible guards.
"No guards? This sect is too relaxed," Qinghui muttered. "What if an intruder barges in? Hmph. And they expect me to feel safe here?"
He dusted his robe with exaggerated pride, cleared his throat, and stepped forward confidently—
Only for a crackle of force to strike him the moment he neared the gate.
"AHHH!"
A pulse of electrified Qi surged through his body, launching him back several meters. Qinghui crumpled to the ground, stunned. Arcs of golden electricity wrapped around his limbs like glowing vines.
"What...?" he gasped. The energy didn't fade. It bound him—tightening, restraining. Just like back in that cave.
His strength drained rapidly, his vision blurring. As his head lolled to one side, footsteps approached.
Qinghui lifted his head with effort—only to see Lan Zeyan staring down at him with a tired, bitter expression.
Seeing Lan Zeyan immediately made Qinghui panic.
"It's not what you think! I... I was lost and then I didn't know—"
"Of course you didn't know that there's a barrier here." Lan Zeyan's voice was low, calm—but clearly not amused. "Only those with a lìngpái can freely enter or leave this place."
"Wha—what? Are you going to punish me? I didn't know, okay?" Qinghui frowned stubbornly.
"Mm. Since you broke the rules, you should be punished."
Qinghui's eyes widened. He had only been provoking him—he hadn't expected the second master to take it seriously.
"I was kidding! Besides, you said I'm an honored guest. Why would you punish me?! I didn't even know your sect had weird rules like that!"
Lan Zeyan simply stared at him again.
"I can already see you're the type who won't give up easily," he said. "You can be... quite annoying. So punishment is necessary. Besides, didn't you say I should have chained you?"
"W–WHAT?! You heard that?! N–no, I was joking! Can't you take a joke?!"
Lan Zeyan didn't respond. Instead, he stepped forward—and suddenly wrapped his arm around Qinghui's waist.
"Wait—what are you doing?!"
With no hesitation, Lan Zeyan lifted him with ease, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing.
"The jìng fù huán will last ten minutes. I'll help you back to your quarters."
"Put me down! Gahh—!"
Qinghui's loud protests echoed down the corridor, drawing the attention of someone nearby.
"Ruoxian."
The voice belonged to none other than the sect leader himself.
Jing Xiao approached them with an amused smile. Behind him was Lan Feirong, who looked completely stunned by the scene in front of him. To see the aloof second master carrying someone over his shoulder—much less speaking to someone this freely—was unheard of.
Qinghui continued to struggle in Lan Zeyan's hold, clearly mortified.
"I never thought you'd be like this when you're interested in someone," Jing Xiao remarked casually, not even bothering to be subtle.
Lan Zeyan simply gave a polite bow, unfazed.
"Hey! This isn't what you think—!" Qinghui tried to interject.
"I'm simply returning him to his quarters. Apparently, the honored guest is still unwell and requires discipline to stop exhausting himself," Lan Zeyan said without missing a beat.
Lan Feirong's eyes widened even more. He had never heard Lan Zeyan speak that way about anyone.
"Is that so? I understand. You two should hurry—it's getting late," Jing Xiao said with a chuckle, clearly entertained.
Lan Zeyan bowed again and resumed walking away, Qinghui still hoisted over his shoulder.
"Hey! I said put me down!" Qinghui yelled, his voice fading down the hall.
Lan Feirong stared at their retreating figures, still processing what he had just witnessed.
"Master Jing," he asked cautiously, "isn't there a penalty for attempting to cross the barrier without a token?"
Jing Xiao smiled, hands folded behind his back.
"I know. But tonight, let's pretend we didn't hear anything. The sky is so calm—why disturb it with punishment?"
He laughed softly, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.
Vocabulary:
令牌 lìngpái: Token
静缚环 jìng fù huán: Static Restraint band