The scent of clean linen and warm water slowly pushed away the acrid, metallic stench of burnt oil and ozone that clung to the room.
Xiao Yu gently kicked the wooden door shut with her hip, carefully balancing a steaming porcelain basin and a stack of soft, white towels. The dim glow of the oil lamp cast flickering shadows across the bedroom walls.
When she turned, she found her brother sitting exactly where she had left him. He was a statue carved from ash and silence, resting on the edge of the mattress. His crimson eyes were open, but they stared blankly at the floorboards, entirely disconnected from the present.
She set the basin down on the bedside stand with a soft clack and wrung out a cloth. The hot water stung her fingertips, but she welcomed the sensation. It kept her grounded.
"Lean forward," Xiao Yu whispered. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, completely stripped of its usual bossy, elder-sister edge. It trembled just a fraction.
Yoriichi blinked. The command acted like a faint tether, pulling his consciousness slightly out of the deep, suffocating well of his own failure. He leaned forward mechanically, his body stiff and unresponsive.
Xiao Yu began to wipe his face. She carefully cleaned the thick layer of black soot from his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and the sharp line of his jaw. The warm, damp cloth felt incredibly grounding against his flushed, overheated skin.
Then, she moved to his chest. Her movements, usually brisk and impatient, were now meticulous and terrifyingly gentle.
As the grime washed away, the pale, dense musculature of his torso was fully revealed in the lamplight. Xiao Yu paused for a fraction of a second, the cloth hovering an inch above his collarbone.
'When did he get so... sculpted?' she thought, her breath catching in her throat. A sudden, traitorous flush crept up her neck.
He was not bulky like the clan guards, nor was he softly built like the pampered young masters of the city. His body was a tapestry of tightly coiled, hyper-compressed muscle fibers, forged by weeks of unimaginable physical torture and the relentless pressure of his breathing technique.
And right over his left pectoral muscle lay the new, jagged cut from the shrapnel.
It was a stark, angry red line sitting dangerously close to his heart. Yet, strangely, the scar didn't look grotesque. Against the canvas of his tempered body, it looked imposing. Like the battle-mark of a veteran warrior who had survived a war no one else could see.
Xiao Yu shook her head quickly, her face growing a shade redder. 'What am I thinking? He is my little brother, and he almost died tonight. Focus, Yu!'
She pressed the warm cloth over the cut, carefully dabbing away the dried blood.
Yoriichi didn't flinch. He didn't even draw a sharp breath.
"Does it hurt?" she asked quietly, unable to hide the raw worry in her eyes.
"Hmm," Yoriichi murmured, a sound that was neither a yes nor a no. It was merely an acknowledgment that he had heard her.
"You are impossible," she sighed, a tear threatening to spill from her eyelashes. She furiously wiped it away with the back of her wrist. "You won't even tell me when you are in agony. You just sit there and take it."
After ensuring the wound was completely clean—and silently thanking the Heavens that his dense Dou Zhi Qi physique had already sealed the edges to prevent infection—she helped him change. He tried to raise his arms to slip into the loose, comfortable white silk nightclothes, but his triceps violently spasmed, completely drained of energy.
Seeing his struggle, Xiao Yu gently pushed his hands down and dressed him herself, treating him with the care one would give to glass. She draped a dry towel over his head and vigorously rubbed his damp red hair until it fell in soft, messy waves around his face.
Throughout the entire process, Yoriichi remained largely unresponsive, only offering a nod or a quiet "hmm" to whatever she asked. His mind was a battlefield of broken steel.
Seeing his listless state made Xiao Yu sigh again, a heavy, desperate sound. She walked over to the table where the cooling dinner sat and returned with a bowl of Lotus Seed and Spirit Mushroom with Iron-Spirit Tofu broth. It was a premium, nutrient-rich soup designed specifically to replenish depleted blood and Dou Qi.
She sat beside him, scooped up a spoonful, blew on it to cool it down, and held it to his lips. "Eat."
Yoriichi opened his mouth and ate mechanically. The warm broth flowed into his empty stomach, jumpstarting his dormant, monstrous metabolism.
As she fed him, the profound silence of the courtyard pressed heavily upon them. The contrast was jarring. Usually, their Grandfather, the First Elder Xiao Lu, would have come rushing through the gates the moment he heard his beloved grandson was injured. The old man would have been screaming for alchemists and threatening to tear down the Smithing Hall.
But tonight, the courtyard was empty.
Beyond the walls of their sanctuary, the main hall of the Xiao Clan was ablaze with a different kind of fire.
Word had arrived just before dusk that a vital Lunar-Iron mine owned by the Xiao Clan in the eastern canyons had been violently seized. A group of heavily armed "bandits"—whose coordinated tactics bore a terrifying resemblance to elite Ao Ba Clan mercenaries—had slaughtered the Xiao outer guards and barricaded the tunnels.
It was a blatant, bloody provocation over territory and resources. First Elder Xiao Lu, known for his fiery temper and martial pride, was currently locked in a bitter, high-stakes tactical meeting with Clan Head Xiao Zhan and the other elders.
He was likely slamming his fists on the war table right now, fiercely debating whether to launch a full-scale, bloody midnight retaliation or risk looking weak and losing the territory forever.
Both siblings silently understood this.
Yoriichi's enhanced hearing could faintly pick up the distant echoes of shouting from the grand hall. He could feel the tension vibrating in the very air of the estate. The realization that his family was under siege while he had been selfishly playing blacksmith in a forge added a bitter, heavy layer of guilt to his already crushing frustration.
When the bowl was completely empty, Xiao Yu set it aside and gently wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Good. That will help your meridians recover. Now, you need to rest."
The nutrients and the meticulous care had finally begun to work their magic. The dark, hollow fog in Yoriichi's eyes began to recede slightly, slowly being replaced by a fraction of his usual clarity. The world snapped back into a sharper focus. He looked at his sister, truly seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the worry etched into her beautiful face.
"I will," Yoriichi nodded, his voice finally losing its frail, hoarse edge.
Xiao Yu nodded to herself, a look of absolute, unyielding determination settling on her features. She stood up, brushing off her skirt.
"Let's sleep now," she declared softly. "I will stay here and watch over you tonight. I am not leaving this room, so don't even think about trying to sneak out and do any other crazy things."
Yoriichi assumed she meant she would sit in the armchair by the door, or perhaps lay a sleeping mat on spare room, or then would go to her place. He nodded again. "Okay. No problem."
He shifted his heavy legs, swinging them onto the large, comfortable mattress, and lay back against the pillows. The bed was massive, designed for a Young Master, easily capable of fitting two or three people comfortably. He closed his eyes, welcoming the softness beneath his aching spine.
A minute later, he heard the soft rustle of silk.