Han Xing lay on the forest floor, breathing shallow.Qi churned beneath his skin like a storm refusing to settle. The forbidden technique had left him ragged, trembling from its backlash. Around him, people moved like ghosts—faces anxious, whispers low, hands unsure where to help.
Xiao Yueli fumbled with a small elixir bottle, her fingers shaking. She pressed the liquid to his lips. Nothing. It steamed and vanished on his tongue, as if his body rejected it."No… you can't die," she whispered, panic cracking her voice. She pressed her forehead to his, as if her warmth could stitch him back together.
Tian Di spoke, voice practical but strained."If we take him to the ship, our medics might stabilize him. He can't stay here."Vice-Captain Wang Yi Suxi shook her head. "It'll be too late. His qi is completely out of control."
Worry rippled through the group like another tide.
At the edge of the clearing, a shadow moved. Captain Lu descended from above—uniform torn, blood flecking his lips, armor scorched. He landed softly, eyes scanning Han as though weighing the edge of a blade. His chest rose and fell, raw and uneven. He coughed, spitting iron-red blood.
"How is he?" Captain Lu's voice was calm but sharp as thunder.
"Qi's unstable. Out of control," Vice-Captain replied.
Captain Lu closed his eyes briefly. Then he knelt, palms glowing faintly with blue lightning. Threads of qi wove delicately into Han's body. It was dangerous—any misstep could cost both of them—but he did it anyway.
"Hold on," he said. "We have to hurry."
Han's qi quieted, tamed enough to be moved. Not cured—just held in check. Captain Lu drew back, hands trembling slightly.
They lifted Han onto a stretcher carefully. Silent efficiency ruled. Tian Di and the men carried him toward the ship while Vice-Captain and Captain Lu discussed routes and speed in low voices. Xiao Yueli hovered close, fingers clenched, eyes wide with fear and hope.
One last glance at the city: streets scarred by battle, smoke curling from burning wrecks. Emergency crews tended the wounded. The evening smelled of ash, metal, and lingering fear.
One week later
Han woke with a start. Soft linens and faint incense greeted him. For a moment, only a memory remained: lightning tearing across the sky, steel clashing, him stepping between danger and the one he vowed to protect.
"Xiao!" he shouted in his dream. Then reality returned with the stillness of the hospital room. His voice echoed softly.
A delicate form stirred beside him. Xiao Yueli slept in a chair, hair loose over her shoulders, pale and exhausted. A small laugh escaped him—relief splitting him open like warm light.
It was only a bad dream. He pushed it aside. Her eyelids fluttered; she woke, exhaustion giving way to a soft, tearful smile. She rose and grasped his hand, wrapping him in a sudden hug. His heart stuttered, hot and impossible. For a moment, the world shrank to the press of her and the steady beat at her shoulder.
Other team members entered quietly, their gazes softening. They shared quiet, knowing smiles, leaving the moment untouched. At that instant, Yueli glanced back—her face flushed scarlet. Muttering to herself, she turned quickly and left the room, red-faced and hurried.
Captain Lu leaned against the doorway, still marked by battle."How are you, kid?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Han replied, then admitted, "I can't use my full strength yet. But as long as I can breathe, I'm okay."
"Captain… what about your fight with the Demon General? How bad were your injuries?" Han asked.
Captain Lu's expression hardened."The Demon General… he's been my rival for a long time. We've clashed for years. He knows almost every technique I have, and I know nearly all of his. Every time we meet, it ends the same—we wound each other, but neither of us can finish the other. He withdrew this time—but he shouted a warning: 'Lu Wu Ren—next time, you die by my hand.'"
Han's old anger flared."Next time I see him, I'll kill him," he said, voice low but fierce.
Captain Lu nodded. "Good. As long as you keep that will, we'll have your back."
Memories of his mother, past failures, and promises pressed down on him. I must get stronger. The vow burned in his heart.
Another week later
Han left the hospital, cloak wrapped around him, bandages neat. Commander Ling waited in the courtyard, a carriage warm from the horses. The commander's composed expression softened as he greeted Han.
"So, Han, how are you? Almost healed?" Commander Ling asked, brisk but with concern in his tone.
"Almost," Han replied. He felt the ground solid beneath him again.
Commander Ling's voice softened."You know Su Ren—she's worried sick about you. She wanted to be here, but she couldn't make it. She's started at the Imperial Academy now—the best in the empire. I'll miss my daughter dearly."
Han's chest tightened."So she's gone to the Imperial Academy… It's the best thing for her. Much safer than staying in the border city."
A memory flickered: sunlight dancing across the city harbor, glinting off the water and lighting up her fearless face. Xiao Yueli, playful yet fierce, had smiled and said, "Next time we meet, don't forget me. If you want to find me, come to the Imperial Academy." With a graceful nod, she stepped aboard the ship that carried her back to her sect, leaving behind warmth and challenge that lingered in his heart.
Back in the carriage, Commander Ling jabbed a finger gently at him."What's with that look? Spacing out again?"
Han blinked. "I was just… thinking about something."
The commander's eyes narrowed, voice turning serious."There's a top-secret mission coming. You're the only one I can trust with it. You'll have one month to prepare. Will you be ready?"
Han met his eyes, determined. The world felt sharp, like a blade cooled and ready."Yes, sir," he said firmly.
Thoughts of the Demon General's threat, Captain Lu's battered hands, and Xiao Yueli waiting somewhere between sects and storms filled his mind. I will get stronger, he promised, his voice trembling yet hardening at once.
The carriage rolled through the city. The sky still held bruises from the storm. Han leaned back, letting the rhythm carry him forward. Some wounds healed; others remained, sharpened into reason and purpose.
There's one path for me to grow stronger, faster— seam like I have to learn that technique. The thought burned in his chest like fire, turning his helplessness into resolve.
He would not be weak again.