Cheng Qian said plainly, "Stick to the rules."
Han Yuan waved his hand nonchalantly. "What's love got to do with it? Anyway, I'm going to Shanxué—coming or not?"
Cheng Qian put on his most earnest, rule-abiding face and replied without hesitation, "I wouldn't dare."
He refused outright, not even pausing to think. Han Yuan looked visibly disappointed, then scoffed with thinly veiled disdain—boys like Cheng Qian, with their obedient, goody-two-shoes attitudes, usually rubbed the hot-blooded, reckless types the wrong way.
"Sheltered," Han Yuan muttered, licking at the corner of his mouth. He gave Cheng Qian a sideways glance filled with disapproval.
Cheng Qian, for his part, saw Han Yuan as a half-crazed stray mutt, more bark than brains. Any emotional investment in this kid felt like a waste of effort. He raised his teacup, utterly indifferent.
Han Yuan glanced at him again, but, remembering the earlier bribe of pine nuts, cooled down a little. With the kind of pitiful look reserved for hopeless causes, he shook his head dramatically. "Kids raised at home," he sighed. "All porcelain and no grit."
That afternoon, during the lecture in the Preaching Hall, Cheng Qian had already sensed that there was something hidden and mysterious about this mountain. And he also realized what Li Yun had likely been thinking.
Li Yun must've been curious about what exactly was in the Shanxué on the night of the fifteenth—but didn't want to risk breaking the rules himself. So, he likely planned to shove someone else into the line of fire.
Han Yuan came over for a late-night snack, didn't manage to convince Cheng Qian to tag along, and left on his own. Cheng Qian, ever the porcelain child, politely saw him to the door, then waited around, curious to see how things would blow up.
"What's the punishment for breaking the rules?" Cheng Qian mused. "A few whacks with the board? Palm-beating? Copying scriptures? …If it's just copying, that's not too bad."
What he didn't expect… was that Han Yuan never came back.
Han Yuan had really gone missing.
Morning classes were canceled that day. Not even his beloved scriptures could hold Master Mu Chun's attention as he and the senior disciples combed through Fuyao Mountain, practically digging it up by the roots—no trace.
Cheng Qian hadn't really understood what Shanxué was all about. He didn't grasp how serious the situation was—at least, not until Master questioned him. He admitted, rather cheerfully, that he'd been with Han Yuan the night before when the kid mentioned going exploring.
The moment he said that, Master's expression changed completely.
"Exploring the mountain on the fifteenth night?" Yan Zhengming, who'd been lounging like a lump against the stone table, suddenly sat bolt upright. "Is he trying to die?"
Li Yun had been feigning indifference since hearing Han Yuan was missing, but at Yan's words, he finally broke. He looked up, his voice tight: "Senior brother… what is Shanxué on the fifteenth night?"
The so-called Shanxué was just a small natural pool deep in the back mountains.
The sect's rules only forbade visiting it on syzygy nights—when the moon and sun aligned. Li Yun had gone there before during the day and never noticed anything odd. To him, it was just another pond.
Yan Zhengming's brow furrowed slowly. "I don't think I ever explained this to you, Li Yun, but… that place connects to the demon valleys behind the mountain range. Usually, a powerful demon guards the gate. But on nights like the fifteenth, the moon phase triggers the stone gate to open. The wild demons—those too weak to stay confined—become restless. To prevent disaster, our sect forbids untrained disciples from wandering around on those nights."
Li Yun was stunned. Yan had technically told him that before, but his words had been… less educational and more sarcastic:
"What're you so curious about Shanxué for? Of course there's a big scary monster. A juicy little sheep like you would barely be an appetizer. Don't go around offering yourself up as dinner."
Come on—how was anyone supposed to take that seriously?
But now, Li Yun's face turned white.
He was the one who'd pushed Han Yuan to go. Sure, he'd been trying to use him to test the rules—but he'd never meant for Han Yuan to die.
Not even close.
Real Immortal Mu Chun moved with eerie silence, crossing the floor like his feet didn't touch the ground. He gripped Cheng Qian's shoulder.
"Did he say why he was going?"
Cheng Qian was still reeling. He wasn't much better than Li Yun—he had stood by, letting Han Yuan go, even looking forward to watching the fallout. It was true he didn't like Han Yuan, but death?
His hands were cold. Under the weight of his master's gaze, he finally managed a hoarse answer:
"He said that newcomers to the sect can sense Qi by the pond at night…"
He didn't say anything about Li Yun's involvement. It felt dirty—like two rats throwing each other under the cart.
Unfortunately, even silence couldn't protect him.
"That fool couldn't sense Qi if it slapped him," Yan Zhengming said flatly. "No need to ask—I'm sure it was Li Yun who told him that."
Li Yun flinched. He shot up, trying to defend himself.
"I—I only guessed! I didn't tell him to go—I told him it was against the rules!"
Yan Zhengming cut him off coldly. "You think fanning the flames makes you less guilty? You've always been the same—sly, two-faced, and hiding behind others. If that idiot really did stumble into the demon valleys… he won't even leave bones behind."
The first part was nothing new. But that last line made Li Yun's legs go weak.
He stood suddenly, almost knocking over the ink pot.
"Master, I… I… I…"
Three "I"s. No follow-up.
His brain was empty. Master Mu Chun's eyes landed on him, heavy as mountains. Li Yun had to look away—he couldn't admit what he'd done, nor could he face what might've happened because of it.
Cowardice, sometimes, is its own punishment.
And in that moment, it dragged him into a pit of his own making.
Panicked, he turned to Cheng Qian—one last desperate grasp.
"Third Junior Brother, you heard me, right? I didn't mean to trick him! I told him not to go—it was against the rules!"
Cheng Qian buried his head. He didn't say a word. The weight of guilt had crushed his breath.
Master Mu Chun stood up. Li Yun reached out desperately— "Master—"
But before he could finish, the master slumped suddenly back into his seat, like something yanked him from above.
Even Yan Zhengming turned, startled. "Master?"
Mu Chun didn't answer right away. He calmly shifted his posture, as if he hadn't just nearly collapsed.
"Enough," he said. "Cheng Qian, bring me that old piece of sandalwood from the corner."
Cheng Qian ran to fetch the safety talisman. As he passed it to Master, he glanced up—something felt off.
Mu Chun looked the same, but not. Cheng Qian had spent enough time around people to sense emotions by now. And Master… Master was shrouded in something cold, something dark.
Was it fury? Or just a bruised tailbone?
Before he could think more, Mu Chun raised a bony hand and slashed a spell into the wood. His fingers looked frail, but held an iron chill, like a spring frozen into blade.
Even those without spiritual sense could feel the spell's weight. All of Fuyao Mountain shuddered faintly.
He looked down at the talisman—not like it was wood, but a person. His eyes were cold, harsh, filled with something deeper than anger.
"Come here." His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like wind on ice.
Yan Zhengming stepped forward, still dazed by the spell.
"Take this. Go down the mountain and find Master Zipeng. Tell her everything—and ask her to help us search. Don't worry—your junior brother's blood hasn't been cut off. He may still be alive. But act fast."