🌿At the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well
Yusheng knelt beside the steaming edge of the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well, a small, clay pot in his hands. Within it, a single sprout of Blue Silver Grass swayed—glowing faintly, unnaturally vibrant. As his gentle warmth reached it, the little plant stirred, curling lovingly around his fingers like a child refusing to let go.
For a moment, he smiled.
Only after a long pause, and a soft-spoken promise no one else could hear, did the grass loosen its hold. Yusheng stood and casually tossed the pot toward Mei Rulan.
"Find the best place here to plant this," he said.
Mei caught it with ease, puzzled. "Sure. But… what's it for?"
Yusheng turned away, his voice quieter now. "Nothing. Just… a favor."
He turned to Lu Shen.
"Can you send a call? Bring the others here."
Then, as if remembering something important:
"And oh—tell Su Yan'er to take a detour to the Clear Sky Clan. Tell them I'll be paying a visit."
Lu Shen blinked. There were so many questions. Why the Clear sky Clan? Why now? Why the Blue Silver Grass?
But none of them came out. Instead, he pulled out a communication soul tool and activated it.
Lu Shen's voice broadcasted clearly:
"Hey guys. Captain needs everyone at the Ice and Fire Well. Urgent."
He paused, glancing at Yusheng's calm silhouette.
"And Su Yan'er—diplomatic request. You're headed to the Clear sky Clan. Prepare them for Captain's audience."
A familiar, cocky voice burst through the device:
"Hahaha, guess we'll have a fight!" – Qiao Ming.
Another responded coolly:
"Roger that."
Others chimed in—some excited, others wary, a few… silent, their thoughts too heavy to speak aloud.
⚓️In Hanhai City
Yin Xuelan stood from her stool in the dim corner of a friendly bar, one she frequented to listen rather than drink. The bar owner—a friend, and a quiet admirer—looked up from wiping glasses.
"Heading out again?" he asked.
She glanced back, her voice calm as steel.
"We're about to burn the continent's most dangerous weapon."
The bar owner froze, half-laughing, half-confused.
"What… what does that mean?"
She gave no answer. Just a final nod before stepping into the night—shadow trailing behind her like a whisper of what was to come.
đź—»three hundred li east of Heaven Dou City.Â
No horn announced her. No banner waved behind her. Only the sound of her footsteps—light and unhurried—climbing the stone path carved into the sacred cliffs of the Clear Sky Sect.
She wore white. Not the white of arrogance, but of clarity. The wind stirred her sleeves like wings, and at her waist, a single jade pendant chimed softly with each step.
Su Yan'er had come.
The guards posted at the ancestral gate straightened as they noticed her figure approaching, solitary and serene.
"Halt. This is sacred ground. Identify yourself," the lead sentry commanded, though even he faltered under her gaze.
She stopped a polite distance away and gave the smallest of bows, hands folded over one another, palms visible.
"Su Yan'er," she said gently. "Emissary of the Ringless Bloom. I come bearing no blade, only a message and a wish for peace."
The guards exchanged puzzled looks. Ringless Bloom? No sect of that name had been registered among the Great Clans or Spirit Hall. Still, her composure gave them pause.
"Emissary of where?" another guard asked, confused. "We've never heard of such a name."
She only smiled, and the wind carried her voice as though the mountain itself leaned closer to listen.
"Then may today be your first memory of it."
Inside the walls, word spread quickly. Elders stirred. Suspicion bloomed.
And then they came—stone-faced, battle-hardened men with soul rings faintly flickering beneath their robes. Tang Xiao, tall and grim, joined them last, standing at the threshold of the gate like a mountain refusing to bow.
The air tightened. Pressure loomed like a brewing storm.
Yet Su Yan'er stood untouched, the only still thing in a world of tension.
"You arrive without invitation," the First Elder said, narrowing his eyes. "What business does an unknown envoy have with the Clear Sky Sect?"
She gave a graceful nod, her voice calm, unmarred by urgency.
"A conversation over tea, if you're willing."
"Or, if not," she continued, eyes lightly resting on Tang Xiao, "I shall return in three days' time. Not alone, but with the captain of the Ringless Bloom."
Tang Xiao's expression didn't shift, but the air around him pulsed.
"My father—the Patriarch—is not to be disturbed. State your demands clearly, or leave."
Her eyes didn't harden. They softened, somehow.
"There are no demands," she said. "Only an offering. Of dialogue. Of understanding. But my captain… he values sincerity, not ceremony. I advise his reception be given the dignity he would never ask for himself. He may be merciful, but not all of us are"
She stepped back half a pace. Her hands unfurled slowly—like opening the pages of a book—and her soul power bloomed quietly, like the spreading rings of a pebble in a still lake. It did not roar. It hummed. And in that hum was weight, purpose, and power. Subtle, but undeniable.
The mountain itself seemed to exhale.
A few of the younger guards sagged to their knees, unable to remain standing under the invisible current. Yet she retracted it the next instant, as gently as she had revealed it.
Turning to go, she paused at the first step downward. Her voice, when she spoke again, was like falling petals.
"Ah—before I forget."
She looked back only slightly, chin tilted, a glint of mirth behind her quiet dignity.
"I'm the weakest among us."
A moment's silence. The feather descended the steps, and the wind resumed its rhythm.