Qingyun Peak was nothing like the frigid, desolate wasteland of stone Li An had imagined.
Quite the opposite—it was unnervingly quiet. As the Fire Drake Li An had casually dubbed "Little Red" touched down on the summit, the swirling mists parted on their own, revealing long walkways paved in white jade. Ancient pines stood tall and weathered, their branches draped in translucent icicles that chimed like silver bells in the breeze. It didn't feel like the restricted grounds of a powerful sect; it felt like a paradise forgotten by time.
Li An had intended to maintain his persona as a "menace to the world," but the second his feet hit the cold jade floor, the exhaustion he'd been suppressing hit him like a tidal wave. That intoxicating rush of power he'd drained earlier vanished, replaced by a searing, bone-deep pain that felt like his meridians were being shredded from the inside.
His knees buckled, and the world dissolved into a blur of overlapping shadows.
The undignified crash he expected never came.
Instead, a firm strength—carrying the cool, crisp scent of sandalwood—caught him under the arms. Ye Shuying was there beside him in an instant, his movements as natural as if he were steadying a rain-battered flower. The grip on Li An's arms was unshakable.
"I told you not to push yourself. Your meridians are like red-hot iron dropped into ice water right now; they can't handle the strain." Ye Shuying's voice vibrated near his ear, low and steady, stripped of any mockery.
"Get off me..." Li An hissed, trying to shove the hands away. But in his current state, his strength was nothing more than a kitten's swat to Ye Shuying. The effort only sent a sharp, metallic tang of blood to the back of his throat.
Ye Shuying let out a soft sigh, ignoring the resistance. He reached out and, with a motion that was both gentle and frustratingly firm, swept Li An up into his arms. The bridal carry made Li An's hackles rise instantly. His snowy tiger ears stood bolt upright in sheer mortification, and sharp, violet demonic claws flickered at his fingertips, pressing against the side of Ye Shuying's neck.
"Put me down, or I'll open your throat," Li An's voice trembled with pain.
Ye Shuying looked down at him. Those phoenix eyes held no trace of malice or condescension; they were clear, almost holy. "If you want to scare that little drake you just caught to death, or let your meridians shatter into dust, be my guest. But I brought this 'medicine' back myself. Until you're healed, you don't have the right to destroy it."
The sheer absurdity of his logic left Li An speechless. He could only retract his claws in a fit of pique and bury his face into the cold, white fabric of Ye Shuying's robe, faking a dead faint out of pure spite.
Inside the meditation room, an ever-burning lamp cast a soft, warm glow.
Li An had been settled onto a bed carved from ten-thousand-year-old glacial jade. The chill seeped into his back, miraculously soothing the frantic demonic blood in his veins. Ye Shuying sat at the bedside, his fingers pressed against the pulse point on Li An's wrist, his brow furrowed as if calculating an impossibly complex formation.
"That 'Ancestor's Soul' you swallowed back at the valley... it was too impure," Ye Shuying said, breaking the silence. He pulled a translucent, pale-green pill from his robe. "That old man practiced the dark arts; his soul was nothing but raw greed. Now, that 'fire of avarice' is scorching your spiritual root. If we don't neutralize it, you'll be burned to a crisp from the inside out within three days."
Li An reclined on the bed, his silver hair spilling across the jade pillow like a silken waterfall. He stared coldly at the pill and scoffed. "More medicine? Is that all you 'Immortals' do? Pop little round balls to stay alive? Back at the valley, they drugged me to turn me into a catalyst. Why are you drugging me? Looking for a different flavor of vessel?"
Ye Shuying didn't take the bait. He remained incredibly patient. "This is a 'Purifying Pill,' condensed from my own natal sword-intent. I've only made one in a hundred years. It won't suppress your demonic nature, and it won't change your bloodline. It only carves away the rot, leaving behind the power that actually belongs to you."
Seeing Li An remain unyielding, Ye Shuying went quiet for a moment. He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, a rare flash of loneliness flickering in his usually cold eyes.
"Li An, if I wanted to hurt you, why would I wait until now? Back in those ruins, I could have just stood by and watched you explode. It would have been far easier."
Li An watched him, and for the first time, a small crack appeared in the wall he called "survival." The man was too quiet—he gave Li An no leverage to strike back. Li An snatched the pill, tossed it into his mouth like a piece of candy, and swallowed it with a few aggressive chews.
The cool spiritual energy dissolved instantly, like rain hitting parched earth. The stabbing agony actually began to fade.
"You win this time," Li An said, his tone still jagged despite the relief. "But let's get one thing straight: the second I'm better, the first thing I'm doing is prying up every piece of jade on this peak to sell for cash. Then I'm chopping this bed into firewood."
"As you wish." Ye Shuying stood up and naturally tucked the velvet blanket around him. The sheer indulgence in his tone made Li An's skin crawl. "As long as you're fast enough to do it, you can have the whole of Qingyun Peak."
As Ye Shuying turned to leave and the door clicked shut, the little red dragon hiding on Li An's wrist finally poked its head out. It grew to about six feet long, clinging to the side of the bed like a giant lizard. Its beady red eyes darted around before it let out a huff of pure disdain, as if mocking Li An for being "bought" so easily.
"What are you looking at?" Li An flicked the dragon's horn, his gaze wandering. "He gave it to me, I might as well take it. It's called strategic recovery, got it?"
He lay back down on the jade bed, unaware that the blood-red butterfly markings at the corners of his eyes had begun to fade into a soft, pale pink. For the first time, in a mind usually filled with nothing but slaughter, the image of a cold, bloodless figure in white had begun to take root.