A dull ache throbbed behind her temples.
Mo Lian groaned, pressing her head against the cold stone beneath her cheek. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of smoke and thunder with vague flashes of explosions, the scent of burnt herbs, and someone yelling about "imminent destruction."
…Right. That was probably her fault.
She opened her eyes slowly. The world around her swam into focus; damp walls, flickering lantern light, and air heavy with iron and mildew. Her wrists ached. She tried to move...
Clink.
Chains.
Her eyes widened. "Oh."
She blinked once. Twice. Then frowned at the shackle biting into her ankle.
"Did I..? Oh no. Don't tell me I'm in prison again."
A sigh escaped her lips, part exasperation, part disbelief. She tilted her head back against the wall and squinted toward the iron bars ahead. Faint footsteps echoed beyond them. The footsteps belonged soldiers, judging by the rhythm.
A moment later, the door screeched open.
Lantern light spilled across the floor, catching the silver of her chains… and the gold of the man standing before her.
He was tall, armored, radiating that kind of quiet authority that made even shadows retreat. His hair was white, tied loosely behind him, and his eyes were gold. Pure, molten gold.
Mo Lian's mouth went dry.
He didn't speak at first. Just looked at her — as if weighing her soul and finding it chaotic, dangerous, and perhaps a little too familiar.
"You're the one they call the Mad Alchemist?"
His voice was low, calm, but the air around him vibrated with power.
Mo Lian blinked, forcing a sheepish smile.
"Mad's a bit dramatic. I prefer… creatively unpredictable."
For a heartbeat, she thought she saw something flicker in his gaze...a ghost of a memory, a softness quickly buried beneath command.
Then his expression hardened.
"You destroyed a fortress with your 'creative unpredictability.'"
She winced. "Ah. So you heard about that."
Mo Lian tilted her head, studying him in the dim light. There was something hauntingly familiar about the man before her ...not his armor or the imperial insignia on his chest, but his presence. It pressed against her lungs like thunder before a storm.
She frowned. "White hair, golden eyes…" she murmured under her breath, squinting harder. Then her eyes widened. "No way..! You're not the Jun Wuya, are you? The War God of the Nine Heavens?"
The man's expression barely flickered, though something in his gaze dimmed, as if the title itself was a weight he didn't care to carry anymore.
"Ah. Right." His voice was quiet, almost dry. "That's what they call me."
Her mouth fell open slightly. It can't be…
The stories said he commanded a thousand heavenly armies, turned tides of wars, and once fought demons for ten days without rest.
And now he was here.
In her cell.
Looking at her like she was the troublesome one.
'Hmm. Did I say something wrong?' she thought, biting her lip. Maybe fangirling over a legendary war god while chained up wasn't the best first impression.
She was about to say something else when he spoke first.
"Back to the reason why I'm here."
That tone. Calm, cool, and utterly businesslike.
The kind of tone that made generals straighten and emperors shut up.
He stepped closer, boots echoing on the stone floor, and knelt slightly so their eyes were level. The golden light of his irises flickered like embers.
"You've caused quite the disturbance, Mo Lian."
She puffed her cheeks. "Technically, the mountain exploded on its own. I just… helped it a little."
His jaw twitched. "…You helped it explode?"
"Mm-hm."
A pause.
Then he exhaled, long-suffering. "I should have expected that answer."
He reached into his sleeve and withdrew a thin jade scroll. "The Emperor would have sentenced you to execution. But I intervened."
That made her blink. "You...wait, you stopped them? Why?"
He met her gaze steadily. "Because I need you."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Need me? You mean, like, for my brilliance or my explosive personality?"
"Your alchemy," he said flatly. "There's a plague spreading in the western barracks. Ordinary healers can't treat it...but your research on the fusion of heavenly flame and mortal herbs might hold the key."
She stared at him. "…You read my papers?"
"I read your arrest reports."
"…Close enough."
He straightened, tucking the scroll away. "Work for me. You'll have your freedom. Refuse…" His gaze flicked toward the chains. "…and you'll rot here."
Mo Lian tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Hmm. Freedom, or prison. Hard choice."
Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment those tired golden eyes that seemed to have seen entire worlds crumble. A strange ache pricked her chest. She didn't know why.
"Fine," she said finally, smiling faintly. "But I want my cauldron back. And my frog experiments."
His eyebrow twitched. "No frogs."
"Half the frogs?"
"None."
She sighed dramatically. "Tyrant."
"You have no idea."
For a fleeting instant, their eyes met
"Well then. Let's go," Jun Wuya said simply.
He snapped his fingers.
The air rippled and a low hum reverberating through the cell, like the heavens themselves took a breath. Symbols of light flared beneath her, forming an intricate teleportation array that crawled across the floor and chains like living fire.
Mo Lian blinked. "Wait...wait! You can't just..."
Too late.
A pulse of energy burst outward, blinding and cold. In the next heartbeat, the stone cell vanished.
She staggered as solid ground returned beneath her feet, smooth marble this time, not damp prison stone. The scent changed too; gone was the mildew, replaced with sandalwood, steel, and faint incense.
When her vision cleared, she found herself standing inside a vast hall, its walls lined with banners and glowing arrays humming with spiritual energy. Soldiers knelt as Jun Wuya stepped forward, their armor gleaming in disciplined rows.
She, on the other hand, was still barefoot, wearing soot-stained robes and dragging a broken chain cuff on one wrist.
The contrast was… dramatic.
She rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Right. Not embarrassing at all."
Jun Wuya ignored her commentary as he turned to his generals.
"Prepare the isolation ward. Summon the western unit's patients. She'll begin work immediately."
"Wait, immediately?" Mo Lian protested. "Shouldn't I at least get food first? Or, I don't know, a bath?"
He glanced back at her.
"You'll have both... when you produce results."
Her jaw dropped. "You're serious."
"Always."
She threw her hands up. "Heavens, no wonder they call you the War God. You treat life like a battle plan."
"And you treat it like an experiment."
She blinked at him and for the briefest moment, saw a flash of something behind his composed demeanor. Weariness. Maybe even… sorrow.
Before she could read it, he turned away.
"Follow me, Alchemist."
And like that, he strode toward the far doors while she scrambled to keep up, muttering under her breath about "tyrannical work ethics" and "underappreciated geniuses."
As she muttered, she didn't notice that he'd stopped walking.
"Honestly, these war types...so uptight, so—oomph!"
Her face collided straight into his solid wall back.
For a heartbeat, she froze. His armor was cold against her forehead, smooth yet impossibly solid, and the faint scent of sandalwood and steel clung to him. She stepped back quickly, rubbing her nose.
"You could've warned me," she grumbled. "You stop like a mountain."
Jun Wuya half-turned, his golden eyes flicking toward her. They caught the light but there was something else there too. A glint, faint but unmistakable, that made her breath hitch before she could stop herself.
"Then pay attention," he said evenly.
"Pay attention?" she echoed, indignant. "You dragged me out of a perfectly fine prison, teleported me without consent, and now you're scolding me for bumping into you?!"
His lips twitched... not quite a smile, but something dangerously close.
"So you admit it was your fault."
"I—what? No! That's not—"
"Good," he interrupted smoothly, already walking again. "Then we understand each other."
She stood there, fuming in silence as his white hair swayed with every step, catching the light like threads of frost.
"Understand each other, my foot," she muttered. "I'm going to spike his tea with sleep powder the first chance I get."
"I heard that."
Her eyes widened. "You weren't supposed to!"
"Then don't say it aloud."
She groaned dramatically and jogged to catch up with him, her chain cuff clinking faintly with every step.
But as she followed the war god through the gleaming marble corridors, she couldn't help but stare at his back again.
The sight stirred something deep within her, something wordless and painfully familiar.
A fragment of warmth. A flicker of grief.
The echo of a memory long buried beneath lifetimes.
She blinked it away and shook her head. Get it together, Mo Lian.
Still… that faint ache in her chest wouldn't go away.