Ren Lin carried Feiyun Xing back toward Sui Village. The snow had already swallowed their earlier footprints, leaving only the frozen carcasses of fallen beasts as proof they had ever passed through.

  When arriving in the warm safe zone, the villagers were praying to the phoenix tree. It stood ever so proudly with a sun-like charisma.

  The village leader came to Ren Lin and asked about what happened. But she couldn’t understand anything, shook her head and went into their house.

  Ren Lin lowered Feiyun Xing onto the mat with care, easing his weight down inch by inch. His breathing was steady now, shallow but no longer strained. Color had returned to his face, faint but present. That alone was enough to make her shoulders loosen.

  She sat beside him for a while, watching his chest rise and fall.

  The house was quiet in a way that felt wrong. Not peaceful—hollow.

  After confirming he wasn’t waking anytime soon, Ren Lin stood.

  Her body ached a bit.

  When she stepped back out the villagers still knelt before the phoenix tree, their lips moving in unison. She could see the devotion in their posture, in the way their hands pressed together, foreheads lowered. Every time the Leviathan rose, they would do this.

  Ren Lin exhaled and moved past them, toward the “training ground” beyond the houses.

  She retrieved her spear and began training.

  The first thrust was cautious. Measured. She adjusted her footing, recalling Feiyun Xing’s instructions—weight forward, hips aligned, spine straight. Without sound, her awareness turned inward. Every movement echoed through her muscles, every shift of balance felt amplified.

  It felt as though she could sense her own body better.

  Thrust. Withdraw. Step.

  Again.

  She practiced until sweat gathered beneath her collar. The silence slowly stopped feeling oppressive and simply became… part of the world.

  Some time later, a shadow fell across the bluish grass.

  Ren Lin turned.

  Feiyun Xing stood at the edge of the flat terrain, steady on his feet, though his posture was stiff. His gaze locked onto her immediately, sharp with concern. He raised a hand, finger curling as if calling out to her.

  When she came, he tapped his ear, then pointed at her and lifted the healing jade Core in his other hand.

  Ren Lin shook her head.

  The prince raised a brow, as if to ask why.

  She carved words into the air with her finger: “I can focus better like this.”

  After a brief pause, he nodded. Turning the jade to himself, he pressed it against his ear and infused it with essence. Once his hearing returned, he spent some time guiding her movements—correcting her stance, adjusting the angle of her steps, before finally leaving to deliver the memory-ice to Sui Zhuan Yang.

  The days that followed passed quietly while the village head refined the necessary Cores. During that time, Ren Lin made a discovery.

  Not all movements served the same purpose. An attack was never just meant to injure. It carried intent beyond the strike itself—the intent to control, to dominate, to win.

  A thrust could intimidate. A feint could deceive. A blow could end a fight—or force it to change.

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  It wasn’t so different from conversation. Only instead of words, people spoke through motion.

  With that realization, something within her shifted.

  Ren Lin broke through the Separate stage of attainment, gaining a crude, imperfect—but basic understanding of combat.

  After the days passed, the leader finished the refinement. However, through failure of other tries they had no ice anymore. So these Cores were the only ones.

  The Wang Bing Core had the shape of a spiral. Like suction in a pool, a line of ice formed.

  Ren Lin and Feiyun Xing could now infuse their memories, though Ren Lin had no essence, she still could use it with the help of the prince.

  On the day of her breakthrough Ren Lin asked Feiyun Xing to return her hearing. What was the starting point of most, Ren Lin needed to work hard for.

  They then infused precious memories, the prince hesitantly a memory of his sister, but Ren Lin? She tried to trick the Leviathan, putting in a worthless memory. She just felt a strange pull to act that way.

  When the Leviathan sang its eerie lullaby they went out of the village and held their Wang Bing Cores above their heads. The snow hit their faces, before their Cores exploded and that piece of memory residing inside flew to the large sea creature.

  Shortly after, the prince felt a carving on his chest. When he looked he saw a white feather. Thinking about the memory he gave away sadness built in his heart. He didn’t know which memory he gave, but he already missed it. But also, there was a sense of relief. He felt that he was one step closer to dealing with his grief.

  The prince with a bittersweet feeling turned to Ren Lin.

  “Where is your symbol?”

  She met his gaze without hesitation and shook her head. “I didn’t receive one.”

  His brows knit together. “Then… what memory did you give?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied evenly. “Only that it wasn’t valuable.”

  The silence that followed was sharp.

  “…What?”

  Ren Lin lifted one shoulder in a small shrug.

  Something inside him snapped.

  “Are you fucking serious?!” His voice tore through the air. “We worked for this. All of it. And you waste it on what—an experiment? A game?”

  Ren Lin waited until the outburst fully spent itself. Only then did she speak.

  “I’m sorry, Xing.”

  He stepped toward her. “Sorry?” His breath shook. “This wasn’t a mistake. You chose this. Sui Zhuan Yang warned me about you. My master did. Called you a snake.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t want to believe them. I just wanted to have someone around me.”

  She raised a hand and gently touched his cheek.

  “Xing,” she said softly, “listen to me.”

  “No.” He knocked her hand away.

  From behind a voice cut in.

  “We can resolve this,” Sui Zhuan Yang said, already close—too close. His arm slid around Feiyun Xing’s shoulders as though they were brothers.

  Ren Lin’s eyes hardened.

  “Remove your hand,” she said flatly. Then, louder, “And stop pretending.”

  The village leader stared at her.

  “You manipulated us,” Ren Lin continued. “You used a Core to amplify our emotions. For him anger and for me curiosity.”

  The tear trailing down Sui Zhuan Yang’s cheek froze.

  “Oh… and where is the proof?” he asked smoothly. “Perhaps this is another lie from a woman who devours trust?”

  He turned to Feiyun Xing. “Leave her here. She’s not worthy enough for you, it would pain me to see a successor from our savior to get hurt or tricked.”

  Feiyun Xing shoved him away. “Both of you are snakes.” His hand hovered over his sword’s hilt. “I want the truth. Anyone who lies—dies.”

  Killing intent flooded the space.

  The village leader swallowed. He could feel the prince’s essence probing him, dissecting every twitch, every breath. Panic crept in. This had gone far beyond expectation.

  Ren Lin, meanwhile, tried standing still.

  She had expected this moment.

  Feiyun Xing’s gaze locked onto her now, essence sharpening his vision. Every micro-expression would be exposed. Any lie would be fatal.

  “Xing,” Ren Lin said calmly, “ask what you want. I’ll answer.”

  She slowed her breathing, relaxed her muscles, softened her posture—not to appear weak, but to remove noise. Lies hid in tension. Truth survived stillness.

  “Why were you using the gate portals so often before we met?”

  She stared at him for a few empty heartbeats.

  “He likely questioned the guards about any anomalies,” Ren Lin analyzed internally. “I stood out. I look unusual.”

  Then she spoke, “you’re wondering why it stopped after your sister died. At the time, I had a child at home—the other Ren Lin. I went into the forest to gather berries. I didn’t have enough money to feed us both.”

  His gaze sharpened.

  “Your blink rate increased,” he said. “Are you lying—or hiding something?”

  Ren Lin exhaled slowly. “I lied about one thing… I never was a crippled cultivator. I stole the bronze tag. I was an ordinary mortal who just knew how to read.”

  Silence pressed in.

  “And?” he asked.

  She hesitated. “I don’t know if I should speak of it.”

  His brow rose. “You will.”

  “The poem you read at my place,” she said quietly. “The first one.”

  Another breath. “It wasn’t written without reason. It was an outlet.”

  Her voice tightened. “I killed someone who tried to rape me. The cultivator I took the tag from.”

  Feiyun Xing contemplated for a moment.

  “I understand why you lied,” he said quietly.

  Then he looked at her again. “But how do I know you won’t lie to me again, or if you are concealing other things?”

  “Whether you trust me or not—that’s your judgment. Not mine.”

  She stepped back a little, deliberately placing the choice in his hands.

  And waited.