Over the last few days, Fan Yumei and her team had trained nonstop—at dawn, in classes, even in stolen moments between meals.
Instructor Luo had taken a personal interest in their progress, and somehow, he and Fan Yumei had hit it off way too well.
The two had spent an entire afternoon swapping high-intensity theory rotations, variable-torque qi drills, and spirit-weight interval sprints—smiling like mad scientists the entire time. Word spread fast.
By the time they finished redesigning the Division workout protocol, half the school was terrified. Even Kai Shi looked pale when Fan Yumei casually suggested "pulse disruption conditioning" during lunch.
⸻
At the Federation Guild Hall, Fan Yumei and Mystic stood before the Transport & Support Examiner board.
"Practical exam—urban aerial delivery," the examiner intoned. "Go."
Mystic launched into the air with a powerful hum, her sleek form darting through sky bridges and hollow towers. Fan Yumei balanced on her back, tossing marked packages into moving hatches at full speed. Below, Federation traffic veered to make way.
Back on the ground, she flew through the ethics test with calm focus. The judges exchanged nods.
"License awarded. Distinction: High."
Fan Yumei smiled, brushing Mystic's smooth side. "Well done."
Mystic let out a proud, thunder-soft trill.
A heavy step echoed behind her.
Guild Commander Qian stood with arms crossed, an expression caught between approval and calculation. "Fan Yumei," he said, voice like gravel. "I have something for you."
He handed her a sleek, matte-black device shaped like a tablet. "This is an Oni-Walander unit. Tracks student and adventurer activity in the field. You'll get filtered mission access—nothing lethal, nothing under black-flag employers. Food, pay, and board when you're out there. It also handles your privacy protocols and syncs with school systems."
Fan Yumei took it with both hands, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you, Commander."
He added, producing a tiny prism chip. "For your beast. Information absorb chip—specially calibrated for high-intelligence, emotionally bonded species. I had it prepared the moment Mystic passed evaluation."
Mystic blinked in surprise, then chirped low and proudly tucked the chip under her fin ridge.
The commander's voice dropped. "The secret realm ahead… it's not a training mission. It's dangerous. Unpredictable. This is where students make their names—or vanish trying."
He looked her in the eye. "You now have the tools. Take care of your team. Represent the Academy. And above all—survive."
Then he pulled a sealed pouch from his coat and passed it to her.
"I heard about your father. Fan Yangwei was a brave man. We used to take missions together back when I still moved in the field. We'd finish a bounty, then drink until one of us passed out first."
Fan Yumei blinked, startled. "You knew my father?"
"Well enough to know he was reckless, fierce, and too loyal for his own good. I admired that. Still do. Take care of your family, Fan Yumei. He'd be proud of you."
Fan Yumei took it with both hands, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you, Commander."
—
Fan Yangwei's Three-Eye Arctic Owl lay curled near the hearth, feathers dulled and one wing still wrapped in thick bandage silk. The injury had come during a beast raid a few months ago—it had taken a brutal hit shielding Fan Yangwei from a crashing beast.
Across the room, Fan Yangwei sat, still as stone. His left leg was gone from the thigh down. His right eye was scarred and sightless. That same raid had taken more from him than most realized. But he was no weak man—never had been. Even with half his body broken, he stood taller than most.
Fan Yumei knelt beside the owl first, her hand hovering just above the fracture point.
"It's responding well," she murmured. Her beast healer's sense felt the distortion in the qi channels—a twist in the tissue, faint but persistent. She gently channeled stabilizing qi, allowing the pathways to settle and the inflammation to ease.
The owl shifted slightly, letting out a soft trill. Its three eyes blinked in steady rhythm before it tucked its head down to rest.
"You did good, old one," Fan Yumei said softly. "Rest now."
She rose, turning to her father. Without a word, she reached into her pouch to pulled out a single vial—the high-grade healing serum Guild Commander Qian had given her.
a quiet weight settled in the living room.
Fan Yangwei—her father—sat in his worn chair, his gaze distant but steady. His leg was heavily bandaged, the injury from a beast raid months ago still raw. His eye, once sharp and fierce, was clouded, a painful reminder of the battle.
Fan Yumei knelt beside him, still holding the vial of high-grade healing serum Commander Qian had given her. "This will help, dad. Just one dose. It takes two days for the limb to grow back, but you'll recover."
He gave a low laugh, voice rough but warm. "Didn't think he'd remember small-time people like me. Ha ha. Guess he never changed. And kept his word."
Fan Yumei passed the vial into his hand. "He said you used to run missions together. That he respected you."
Fan Yangwei gave a crooked grin. "We did. Back before he went big time."
He rolled the vial between his fingers. "We'd finish a bounty, argue about tactics, then drink until one of us passed out. Usually me."
Then he laughed softly—gravelly, with years behind it. "Didn't think he'd remember small-time people like me. Ha… guess he wasn't wrong. And he kept his word."
Fan Yumei smiled faintly as he raised the vial in a quiet toast.
"Here's to past regrets."
Then he drank.
The golden serum coursed through him in a slow, glowing pulse. Qi surged along his bones and nerves—subtle but powerful. His eye fluttered, his shoulders eased, and the stump of his leg began to glimmer faintly at the edge, where skin and sinew would soon return.
"In two days," Fan Yumei said gently, "you'll be whole."
Fan Yangwei stared at his palm as if seeing it anew. "It's already started."
Ka Sanni stepped forward, brushing her fingers along his back. "You gave so much. Let this be enough."
Then, without hesitation, Fan Yangwei pulled Fan Yumei into a tight, fierce hug.
He whispered, voice thick with emotion, "I should be the one taking care of you."
She hugged him tighter. "You still do."
He held on for a long moment—his voice cracking. "I'm proud of you, Yumei. So damn proud."
Tears ran down his cheeks. He didn't wipe them away. He didn't need to.
Fan Yumei's eyes softened as she watched the golden serum pulse through her father's veins. Memories drifted in—of nights long past, back when she served in the military.
She recalled the laughter around campfires, the sharp debates with comrades over fighting tactics and battle strategies. How they'd argue passionately about formations and supply runs, only to dissolve it all with raucous laughter and clinking bottles.
Drinking away the tension and the weight of the next day's danger, until exhaustion claimed them and they stumbled back to their bunks, ready to do it all over again.
Those nights had been a lifeline—brotherhood in chaos, a brief escape from the unending grind of war.
Now, standing here, Fan Yumei felt that same stubborn fire inside her—a resolve forged in sweat, blood, and shared stories beneath the stars.
Her father's eyes flickered with renewed life. Tears welled unbidden as he reached out, pulling her into a fierce embrace once more. "You've done more than I ever dreamed. Thank you, my sweet Yuyu."