The cultivator returned before dawn.
This time, he did not come alone.
Ling Yue felt it before she saw them — the air tightening, the silence sharpening. Even the birds had fled. She stepped outside just as figures emerged at the village entrance: three cultivators, their robes marked with different sigils, their expressions measured and unreadable.
Hunters.
Her heart lurched.
Ye stood already in the square.
He had not slept.
"You shouldn't be here," the lead cultivator said calmly, his gaze fixed on Ye. "This place is beneath you."
Ye inclined his head slightly. "Then leave it undisturbed."
"That would be easier," the man replied, "if you were not standing in it."
The others spread out subtly, forming a loose boundary. No one drew a weapon. None was needed.
Ling Yue moved instinctively to Ye's side.
He felt it — her presence — and his jaw tightened.
---
"You've caused disturbances," the cultivator continued. "Minor, but recurring. The land remembers."
"I've corrected what I could," Ye said.
"And in doing so," the man replied, "you've confirmed what you are."
A murmur rippled through the watching villagers.
Ling Yue's breath caught. "What does he mean?"
Ye didn't answer.
The cultivator turned his gaze to her — assessing, curious.
"And you," he said thoughtfully. "You're interesting."
Ye stepped forward instantly.
"Don't look at her."
That did it.
The cultivator's expression hardened. "You place yourself between her and us without hesitation. That tells me everything."
Ling Yue's fingers trembled as she gripped Ye's sleeve. "Ye—"
"Stay behind me," he said quietly.
"No," she whispered. "I won't."
He glanced back at her — just once — and in that look was a thousand things he could not say.
---
The cultivators moved.
Not to attack.
To test.
The air rippled as pressure descended — not pain, but weight. The kind that crushed breath and bent knees.
Villagers cried out, collapsing where they stood.
Ling Yue staggered.
Ye caught her before she fell.
Enough.
He released a fraction of himself.
Not light.
Not power.
Authority.
The pressure vanished instantly.
The cultivators recoiled a step — not in fear, but in confirmation.
"There it is," the lead cultivator said quietly. "An existence that should not persist."
Ye held Ling Yue upright, his breath steady despite the strain tearing through him.
"Take it out on me," he said. "Not them."
The man studied him. "You already know how this ends."
"Yes."
"Then why stay?"
Ye looked down at Ling Yue.
Her eyes were wide, terrified — not of the cultivators, but of what she was beginning to understand.
"Because," Ye said softly, "leaving would cost more."
---
The cultivators withdrew — slowly, deliberately.
"This village will be marked," the leader said. "You will be watched."
He paused. "And when you can no longer restrain yourself… we will return."
They vanished as quietly as they had arrived.
The square remained devastated.
Villagers lay shaken, confused, but alive.
Ling Yue turned to Ye, her hands gripping his arms.
"What are you?" she demanded, voice breaking. "Tell me the truth."
He closed his eyes.
Not yet.
"I'm someone who stayed too long," he said.
"That's not an answer!"
"It's the only one I can give."
Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe through rising panic.
"You're going to leave," she whispered. "Aren't you?"
He reached for her — then stopped.
"I will do what I must."
She shook her head fiercely. "No. No more half-words. No more disappearing."
Tears welled despite her resolve. "If you're going to break my heart, at least let me know why."
Ye's restraint finally cracked.
He pulled her into his arms — tight, urgent — holding her like the world was already trying to tear her away.
"I never wanted this," he whispered into her hair. "I never wanted you to be part of it."
She clutched him back, fingers digging into his robe. "Then choose something else."
He held her a moment longer.
Then loosened his grip.
"I already have," he said.
---
That night, the river changed.
The water grew unnaturally still, reflecting the moon too clearly — as if preparing to remember something sacred.
Ye stood at its edge, pain threading through his body with every breath. The mortal world was rejecting him now, openly.
Time was no longer thinning.
It was collapsing.
Behind him, unseen, Ling Yue watched his silhouette and felt — with terrifying certainty — that the man she loved was standing on the edge of an ending.
And she did not know how to stop it.