“Pu’er — do you remember whether those black-robed men at your home that night had any distinguishing features?”

Outside of Ruan City, a white horse made its way at an unhurried pace, two riders on its back — Han Pu in front, Fengxi behind.

Han Pu thought carefully, then shook his head. “They were all masked — there was nothing distinctive to be seen. Well, if I absolutely had to name something, they were all carrying broadswords.”

“Broadswords?” Fengxi’s brow furrowed. There were any number of people in the world who used broadswords.

“Yes — every last one of them.” Han Pu nodded.

“Do you remember what style of moves they used?” Fengxi pressed, hoping for one more thread of a clue.

Han Pu shook his head again. “The moment those black-robed men arrived, Father hid me away and told me not to come out no matter what — so I did not see much.”

“You know absolutely nothing — so how exactly are we supposed to find those black-robed men?” Fengxi reached out and rapped her knuckles on Han Pu’s head. “Are you planning to avenge your father in this lifetime or not?”

“But I do know they came for our family’s medicine formulas — because I heard them telling Father to hand over the formulas.” Han Pu drooped his head slightly, looking a little aggrieved.

“Ah — no wonder every last bit of your family’s medicine was cleaned out. As for the formula…” Fengxi propped her chin in her hand, eyes brightening with thought. “The formula is in my hands now. If we let word spread that the Han Family’s formula is in the possession of Bai Fengxi, then every greedy soul under heaven who wants the Han Family’s medicines will come after me — and those black-robed figures will certainly come too.”

“You — if you do that, everyone in the world will come hunting for you!” Han Pu gave a startled cry. “You want to die?!”

“Go!” The slender finger descended again.

“Aiyah!” Han Pu clutched his head and yelped.

“Little one — are you scared? Afraid of being killed?” Fengxi looked at him with a teasing smile.

“I am not scared!” Han Pu lifted his small chin high, his young and handsome face tilted upward with pride. “Even you are not afraid — why would I, a man, be scared? Besides, I still have those black-robed men to kill, to avenge my father!”

“Now that is how a man speaks.” Fengxi nodded approvingly, then her knuckle rapped his forehead again.

“Stop knocking my head — it hurts!” Han Pu rubbed his forehead.

“I am trying to make you smarter.” Fengxi smiled — though she did actually put a stop to it.

Han Pu looked ahead. The road stretched out into the distance, and he did not know where it would take him. A vague and unmoored feeling stirred in his small heart — in that vagueness, the sense that the road ahead would be different from anything before. The fine clothes, the delicious food, the warmth, the innocent happiness — all of it was severed in this moment. What lay ahead might well be a road of wind and dust and rain.

After a moment, he turned back and said quietly: “Hey — thank you.”

Young as he was, he had grown up in a martial household and knew something of the harshness of the martial world. He understood that what Fengxi was doing would put her at great risk — might even cost her her life. His heart stirred with genuine gratitude.

“Little one — call me Elder Sister! Did you hear me?!” Another knock on the forehead — Fengxi seemed not to have heard the thanks at all.

“If you promise not to knock me anymore, I will call you that.” Han Pu shielded his head with both arms, bracing against another attack.

“Fine.” Fengxi agreed without hesitation. “Then say it — Elder Sister!”

“Mm… mm… Eld… Elder Sister.” Han Pu twisted and squirmed, but finally said it — very quietly.

“Good boy, Pu’er!” Fengxi extended a finger, intending to rap his forehead again — then remembered the promise she had just made and changed course at the last moment, turning the rap into a pat.

“Elder Sister — where are we going?” Having said it once, Han Pu found it considerably easier the second time.

“I do not know.” The answer was nothing if not definitive.

“What?!” Han Pu erupted.

“Pu’er — you are thirteen, not eighty-three. Why do you always flinch and startle at everything? You need to grow up faster. Be steadier, calmer — learn to meet the unexpected without losing your head. Understand?” Fengxi never missed an opportunity to instruct her new younger brother.

“I am thirteen.” Han Pu answered honestly.

“Plenty old enough. When I was your age, I was already out in the martial world on my own.” Fengxi said this as easily as remarking on the weather.

“Oh?” Han Pu’s interest was caught. “By yourself? Were your parents not worried?”

But Fengxi did not answer the question. She was frowning slightly, seemingly turning something over in her mind — and then her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “Pu’er — I have an idea.”

“What idea?”

“If we let word spread that the formula is on me, people from every direction will come hunting for me. I am not particularly worried about that — but you…” She gave him a sideways look. “With that little bit of martial arts of yours, your life would most certainly be in danger. So I have thought of a better way.”

“What way?” Han Pu asked, and on reflection he had to admit she had a point — his martial arts were hardly enough to avenge anyone, let alone defend himself. He would probably end up getting in her way.

“That Black Fox also stole a copy of the formula. And his martial arts are incomparably better than yours, not to mention all the skilled fighters around him for protection — so what if instead we spread word that the formula is in his hands? Everyone will go chasing after him, and we can follow from behind and wait for those black-robed figures to show themselves.” Fengxi smiled pleasantly. “Not a bad scheme from your Elder Sister, is it?”

Han Pu stared at her, and for a long moment could not speak. At last he managed: “This is just… setting him up.”

“What do you mean?!” Fengxi’s palm descended on his forehead — she had promised not to knock, but she had said nothing about not slapping. “That Black Fox is cunning, changeable, devious, and ruthless — and few people can match him in martial arts. Rather than worrying about him, you should worry about whether the people who go after him will survive long enough to regret it.”

“Hmph! Setting someone up from behind and slandering them, and yet doing it with such perfect self-assurance — now that is a rare thing indeed. Woman!”

A cold snort came from behind them. They turned — and there was a black horse, Fengxi astride it with perfect composure, behind him two more horses carrying those two identical-looking twins, Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan. And behind them, a carriage, driven by a man of about fifty, a horse whip in hand. His complexion was a sallow yellow, but his eyes shone with a keen and penetrating light.

“Hey — Black Fox, you caught up.” Fengxi greeted him with a cheerful smile, entirely unbothered by the fact that she had just been discussing a scheme at his expense. “What perfect timing — I am going to borrow your carriage for a nap. I am absolutely exhausted.”

With that, she sprang from the back of the horse, landed on the carriage, and waved a hand at the driver. “Old Master Zhong — it has been a while.”

Then she looked at Zhong Yuan and Zhong Li. “The pastries inside the carriage — I am eating them. If the Black Fox gets hungry, figure out something to stuff his mouth with yourselves. Wake me up when we arrive.” Having delivered these instructions, she disappeared inside the carriage.

“Elder Sister — where are we going?!” Han Pu, left behind on the horse, called out urgently.

The carriage curtain lifted and Fengxi stuck her head out, pointed at Fengxi, and said: “Ask him.” Then she withdrew and did not appear again.

Han Pu looked at Fengxi in silent inquiry.

“We go to Wu City first.” Fengxi said, unhurried, then pulled his reins and led the way.

Han Pu, left behind, turned back and looked at the silent and unmoving carriage, and began for the first time to wonder whether he had made the wrong choice.

Wu City sat on the border of Baiguo, a long river winding around it like a jade belt before flowing on into the Qiyun Royal Domain — this was the Wuyun River, twelve hundred li in length and the fourth greatest river within the territories of Dong Chao.

At this moment, a boat sat moored at the edge of the Wuyun River. In outward appearance it looked much the same as any other vessel — the one distinctive feature being that its hull was painted entirely black.

On the prow stood two figures, one tall and one small. The taller was a young gentleman in a wide-sleeved black brocade robe, his face smooth as fine jade, his bearing serene and noble, a faint and elegant smile at the corners of his mouth, his whole air one of indescribable nobility and ease. The smaller was a boy of about thirteen or fourteen in white clothing, his face still carrying the unguarded look of childhood. These two were Fengxi and Han Pu.

As for Fengxi herself — she had begun by sitting sideways against the boat railing, but she was now lying flat on the deck, deeply absorbed in a pleasant dream.

In the evening hours, the setting sun scattered thin gold light across the water, and the surface of the Wuyun River shimmered and sparkled. Sky and river were a single color, untouched by a trace of dust. Even the clumps of reeds along the bank had taken on a faint gilded sheen, swaying softly in the river wind, as though showing off the last of their grace before the light was gone.

Fengxi’s long and slightly narrowed eyes lifted toward the descending red sun in the west, ten thousand golden rays settling across him. In this moment, he stood in complete silence — as though he had stood here since the ancient beginnings of time, unusually still, entirely unlike the warm and agreeable young gentleman he was in everyday life. In the setting sun, his tall black silhouette appeared towering and immovable, like a mountain range serene in its own weight — yet with that faint and particular solitude that mountains carry in the dusk, as though the entire world had been reduced to just this single figure.

Han Pu, meanwhile, was staring fixedly at Fengxi where she lay asleep on the deck, studying her with the look of someone trying to work something out — and after a long study, still could not make sense of it. How could a person like this be the celebrated Bai Fengxi, known throughout the world?

He thought back over the journey from Ruan City to Wu City. Along the way, Fengxi had essentially done only two things: eat and sleep. She seemed incapable of ever getting enough sleep — any time she sat or lay down, she fell asleep immediately, and this talent for sleep left Han Pu thoroughly impressed.

And her eating — aih. On the very first day, she had single-handedly finished every last pastry that Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan had prepared for Fengxi — enough for two days — and then calmly gone to sleep.

They had been forced to stop at a small roadside shop to eat. When the food finally arrived, the rest of them, starving, descended on it ravenously. But the great Young Master Fengxi merely swept a glance over the table, did not so much as lift his chopsticks, and rose and returned to the carriage. A moment later, a shriek came from inside the carriage, accompanied by the sound of barely-suppressed furious cursing — “Black Fox! I will kill you!” — while Zhong Li, Zhong Yuan, and Old Master Zhong went right on eating with their heads down, apparently unable to hear anything coming from the carriage at all. Han Pu was the only one who kept glancing at the carriage with genuine anxiety, worried it might be reduced to rubble with everyone inside, and forgetting entirely to eat. In the end, Old Master Zhong had patted him reassuringly and told him not to worry. And of course, nothing truly terrible came of it — not even a visible bruise on either party, which suggested that when high-level martial artists came to blows, it was a rather different affair from ordinary fighting.

And now she — this woman — was lying openly on the deck of the boat in broad daylight, with no care whatsoever that it was the middle of the day, no care whatsoever that there were men present, as though all of heaven and earth were her personal bed and curtained chamber. She slept with the most perfect ease and contentment.

One arm was folded beneath her head as a pillow; the other lay across her waist at an angle. Her long black hair fanned out across the deck like a spread of ink-dark silk. When the river wind moved over her, the ink-dark silk stirred, strand by strand — some of it drifting onto her white robe, like wisps of light smoke curling around floating clouds. A few strands lifted entirely into the air, drifted for a moment, then settled across her cheek — smooth and luminous black threads slipping slowly, reluctantly, across a face smooth as jade… slowly sliding… slowly sliding away.

When Fengxi turned back, he found Han Pu staring fixedly at Fengxi with wide eyes, his expression cycling through bewilderment, doubt, envy, appreciation, and then a quiet sigh — all in those small eyes, a depth of thought entirely out of proportion with his age. Fengxi extended a hand and ruffled his small head. Han Pu looked back at him, caught between irritation and resignation.

Suddenly, there was a splash. Both of them turned at the same time — and Fengxi was no longer there. The prow was ringed with water droplets that had splashed onto the deck. A moment later, both of them realized: Fengxi had fallen into the river.

“Oh — can she swim?!” Han Pu cried out in alarm, just about to jump in after her — but Fengxi caught him by the arm, and quietly began counting: “One, two, three, four… ten.”

With a great crash of water, Fengxi surfaced.

“Cough cough — you callous, cold-blooded — cough cough — Fox!” She coughed and swam toward the boat simultaneously.

“Woman, your talent for sleeping has my deepest respect. To manage it in water — truly remarkable.” The words were spoken in praise, yet the mockery and sarcasm within them were impossible to miss.

Fengxi shot upward out of the water, executed a spinning turn in midair, and the water spray scattered in every direction onto the boat, thoroughly drenching both people on deck.

“Shared pleasure is greater than solitary pleasure — I thought I would share some of this delightful coolness with you both.” Fengxi landed on the prow, looking at the two dripping figures with unmistakable delight.

“Tsk—!” Fengxi let out a sharp whistle, his bright eyes fixed on Fengxi with an appraising sweep up and down. “Woman — you may be extraordinarily lazy, but at least you have not been too lazy to maintain your figure.”

His gaze traveled slowly from head to foot. “What grows in the right places has grown; what should not grow has not. On that point alone, I would say you have some merit.”

He said this while nodding to himself as though reaching a considered conclusion.

At this moment, Fengxi was soaked through — her wide white robe clinging close to her body, every curve visible with perfect clarity. Her long black hair was plastered to her front and back, drops of water falling one by one from her hair and clothes. Her face, wet, looked like white jade rinsed in water — smooth and luminous and vividly beautiful, like a water spirit risen from the river, the allure she radiated entirely unself-conscious.

Han Pu took one look at Fengxi in this state and, young as he was, immediately turned his back, squeezing his eyes shut. His former tutor’s words came back to him — do not look at what is not proper to look at — though in his heart he harbored serious doubts about whether the concept of propriety had anything whatsoever to do with someone like Fengxi.

Fengxi herself only now seemed to notice the state she was in — but Bai Fengxi was Bai Fengxi, and she showed not a shred of embarrassment. A toss of her head sent her sopping black hair flying forward to drape over her front, covering somewhat what needed covering. Then she smiled brightly. “To receive such high praise from the celebrated Hei Fengxi himself — truly an honor beyond what I deserve!”

The laugh was barely out before her figure extended in a sweeping motion, landing in front of Fengxi. She stretched both arms wide and her body spun in a graceful arc — like a water spirit performing a coquettish dance. “How do I compare to the ladies of Tianxiang House and Wanhua House?”

As she spoke this, the spinning motion sent water drops flying in every direction, weaving a misty veil of spray around her that blurred her outline and draped Fengxi in a second soaking.

“The ladies of Tianxiang House and Wanhua House are every one of them gentle and attentive, charming and captivating — and none of them would ever drench me in water.” Fengxi narrowed his eyes and smiled with the look of someone enduring a great deal.

“Oh — is that all?” Fengxi stilled, tilting her head slightly, a faint smile on her lips, asking the question with a look of mild curiosity. Her eyes, perhaps because of the river water, gave off a clear and lucid light.

“Well.” Fengxi wiped the mist of water drops from his face with a look of resignation. “The ladies of Tianxiang House do not have the ability to drench me in water. In that respect, you have something they lack.”

“Ha ha!” Fengxi burst out laughing. The corner of her eye caught Han Pu’s thoroughly flushed little face, and a flick of her finger sent a single water drop flying straight into the center of his forehead.

“Aiyah!” Han Pu yelped, clutching his forehead and opening his eyes to glare at her. For someone like this, propriety was clearly an entirely irrelevant concept.

“Why are you standing there stiff as a post — why are you not already going to find your Elder Sister a dry change of clothes?!” Fengxi directed without the slightest ceremony.

The moment she finished speaking, one of Fengxi’s attendants was already coming out of the cabin with a set of clothing, which he offered to Fengxi with a respectful bow. “Miss Fengxi — please go into the cabin and change out of the wet clothes.”

“Zhong Li — you are the best!” Fengxi accepted the clothing with a beam and patted the attendant’s head.

“Miss Fengxi — I am Zhong Yuan.” The attendant’s delicate face flushed red as the sunset sky in the west.

“Oh?” Fengxi raised an eyebrow — then said, entirely unconcerned: “No matter — you are all one and the same, Zhong Li or Zhong Yuan.”

And with that she turned and went into the cabin to change.

By the time she came back out, the sail was being raised at the prow.

“Where are you going?” Fengxi stood at the prow, hands clasped behind his back, asking the question without turning around.

“Wherever.” Fengxi answered just as lightly, squinting up at the infinitely shifting clouds in the western sky. “Once we go ashore — wherever the road takes me.”

At those words, Han Pu instinctively reached out and gripped Fengxi’s sleeve.

Fengxi caught this from the corner of his eye, and a small smile curved his lips. “Han Pu — are you certain you want to follow her?”

“Of course!” Han Pu tightened his grip on Fengxi’s sleeve without a moment’s hesitation. He could not quite say why, but every time those eyes of Hei Fengxi swept across him, a chill rose in his chest. Those eyes were too bright, too deep — as though everything they looked at turned transparent. That was also one of the reasons he had chosen not to follow him.

“Is that so?” Fengxi’s smile was unfathomable. Then he dropped his voice to something barely audible: “I had considered giving you a hand — but… you will understand one day.”

“What did you say?” Han Pu could not make out the words or the meaning.

“Nothing.” Fengxi turned his gaze back to Fengxi, and the smile on his face softened into something quieter. “You are investigating the black-robed men who destroyed the Han Family? And you are really going to use yourself as bait?”

“What I use as bait depends on my mood at the time. As for those black-robed men…” Fengxi raised a hand and pushed a damp strand of hair back from her face. A sharp and blade-bright light passed through her eyes — then was gone, leaving behind the usual lazy ease. “I imagine you and I are thinking the same thing. Five years ago, you and I leveled the Duanhun Sect — but we did not root it out completely. Five years later, and the Duanhun Sect has surfaced again in Baiguo. Five years of silence, and now they reappear on Xuan Mountain — more vicious and vile than ever before. Looking at the style of whoever destroyed the Han Family, it is very likely those black-robed people were from the Duanhun Sect. The Duanhun Sect has always worked purely for money. Whoever hired them must be a person of tremendous wealth.”

“‘By any means necessary to achieve the objective’ — that is the Duanhun Sect’s creed.” Fengxi looked up; the sail had already risen. “I will go from the Wuyun River straight into Qiyun. You might as well take the road through Nanguo. Along the way, I will track down the black-robed figures for you; you track down the Xuanzun command token’s whereabouts for me. We meet again in Huangguo. How does that sound?”

Fengxi looked at him as the words fell, and caught a brief flash of light in his eyes before it vanished. A smile touched her lips. “Why are you so set on the Xuanzun command token? Does Hei Fengxi truly want to build himself a black dynasty?”

“A black dynasty?” Fengxi let an inscrutable smile curve his lips, then looked ahead toward the water before the boat. “I am simply acting on someone else’s behalf.”

“And who carries enough weight to have you running errands for them?” Fengxi smiled with a sardonic tilt. “Is that person not afraid of who they have entrusted this to?”

“Young Master Lanxi of Fengguo.” Fengxi’s voice was mild, and his gaze returned to Fengxi’s face. “The jewelry that was used to settle your debt that day was all given by him — which means you also owe him a debt of gratitude. Since the Xuanzun command token is what he desires, it would only be fitting for you to look into it on his behalf as well.”

“Young Master Lanxi?” Fengxi’s head tilted, her smile brilliant but laced with mockery. “I have heard that Young Master Lanxi, one of the Four Great Young Masters of Dong Chao, is said to be as pure and lofty as a lone orchid in a hidden valley — a refined and elevated gentleman standing apart from the common world. So why would such a person be so fixated on a Xuanzun command token that has been touched by ten thousand dirty hands and stained by countless rivers of filthy blood? Not only sending a general to seize it, but bribing martial world figures with heavy gold. The moment anyone starts talking about rivers and mountains, beauties, gold and power — no matter how elevated and untouched they seemed before, they end up smelling as foul as a heap of dog dung.”

Fengxi had long since grown accustomed to Fengxi’s cold mockery, and his faint smile did not change. He looked toward the bank. “The boat is already moving. Are you coming with me to Qiyun?”

“I would never share a road with a Black Fox like you!” Fengxi’s hand shot out and grabbed Han Pu’s collar, and then she sprang upward from the boat, landing lightly on the bank.

“Woman — do not forget our agreement. We meet again in Huangguo.” Fengxi’s voice drifted back, unhurried.

“Ha — Black Fox, even if I find the Xuanzun command token, I am not giving it to you. I will send it to the Shizi of Huangguo.” Fengxi called back with a mocking laugh.

“Why?”

Fengxi called out the question, and the boat was already drifting further away — but Fengxi’s answer still carried back with perfect clarity.

“Because it is what he wanted. It is what he exchanged his life for.”

Then, more quietly, to herself — watching the white sail, the only patch of white on that black boat, as it grew smaller in the distance: “And besides — I never agreed to that arrangement in the first place.”

The white sail disappeared at last into the horizon. The figure on the bank remained standing there, looking at the green mountains and clear water in the fading light, a heaviness in her heart she could not quite explain.

“Elder Sister — where are we going?” Han Pu called her back from wherever she had been looking.

“Wherever.” The same answer as always.

“Is there any answer other than ‘wherever’?” Han Pu questioned his choice for the second time.

“Oh.” Fengxi looked down at him, then tilted her head and thought. “Then let us just follow this road. Nanguo, Huangguo, Huaguo, Fengguo, Fengguo, Qiyun… We walk through them all, one after another. We will encounter those black-robed people eventually.”

“What? Just walk? With no leads at all, just wandering randomly?” Han Pu’s eyes went wide as he stared at this Bai Fengxi in disbelief. In his heart, he was more than certain that his hypothesis had been correct all along: the martial world’s reputation for her extraordinary valor and brilliant intelligence was entirely mistaken.

“Go on — what face are you making at me?!” Fengxi’s slender finger snapped forward and flicked Han Pu’s forehead. Then she turned and led the way forward. “Have you heard this saying: ‘dress in Baiguo, eat in Nanguo, train your martial arts in Huangguo, pursue learning in Fengguo, seek pleasure in Huaguo, and find artistry in Fengguo’? Your Elder Sister is going to take you on a tour of eating, drinking, and enjoying life.”

A mountain road in the western reaches of Nanguo.

Two figures made their way along the road at a slow pace — one large, one small. In the lead was a white-clothed woman, wide sleeves flowing, black hair like a waterfall, her footsteps light and her expression one of evident good cheer. Behind came a white-clothed boy, a small bundle on his back. His white clothes had become grey clothes. His handsome face had lost all its luster. His eyes were dull. And his mouth was going steadily, feebly, under his breath.

“Why did I ever decide to follow her? This is the worst decision of my life.”

“With her, it is eat one meal and have no idea where the next is coming from. Sometimes we eat without paying and she leaves me behind as collateral, and I have to work it off. Or we fill our stomachs with wild fruits and wild vegetables and drink water from mountain ditches.”

“For sleeping — sometimes it is someone’s doorstep, sometimes hanging from a tree branch, sometimes a broken-down temple with nothing but a grass mat, wind and sun beating down on us, not a single comfortable day.”

“How is it possible?! How can the second-greatest fighter in the world not have any money?! Surely all great heroes are impressive and impressive and rolling in wealth?”

“I should have followed Hei Fengxi. Even if I woke up from sleep and found myself sold off, at least I would have had a few good meals and a decent night’s rest before it happened.”

No need to wonder — this could only be the Han Pu who had so firmly insisted on following Bai Fengxi and was now consumed by regret.

“Pu’er — you are thirteen, not eighty-three. Stop shuffling along like an old man! You need to grow up faster, be steadier and more mature, meet the unexpected without losing your head! Do you understand?” The white-clothed woman ahead turned back to call to Han Pu, who had fallen four or five zhang behind.

Han Pu heard her and promptly sat down on the ground and refused to move, using the last of his energy to glare furiously at her in silent protest.

Fengxi walked back and stood before him. She took one look at him — thoroughly exhausted — and her face filled with mockery. “Who was it who called himself a man? How have a few steps of mountain road managed to reduce you to this?”

“I am thirsty, I am hungry, and I have no strength left.” Han Pu could not even be bothered to argue.

“Aih — all right. I will go and see if I can catch a wild rabbit or a mountain pheasant to fill your stomach.”

Fengxi had no choice. Children were simply inconvenient companions — especially those raised on fine clothing and exquisite food, unable to walk even this short a distance without falling apart, and picky to boot. Though… she thought of his fussiness about food, and had to admit that over the course of this journey she had largely cured him of it. At least when he was hungry, as long as it was something edible, he was shoveling it in without complaint.

“As for your thirst…” Fengxi’s eyes darted around, and she leaned close to him and lowered her voice. “There does not seem to be any mountain spring nearby. Why not just drink the blood of whatever rabbit or pheasant I catch? Quenches thirst and provides nourishment at the same time.”

“Blech — urp—” Han Pu shoved her away and heaved forward as though about to retch — but only dry heaving came out; his stomach had nothing left in it to give.

“Ha ha — Pu’er — you are really in desperate need of conditioning!” Fengxi laughed and went on her way. “Remember — gather some firewood. Nothing in this world comes for free.”

“I know.”

Han Pu muttered under his breath, wobbled to his feet, gathered some dry wood, and used the small dagger he carried to clear a patch of flat ground. He stacked the firewood and waited for Fengxi to return.

“Good boy, Pu’er — light the fire.”

Fengxi’s voice drifted from somewhere not too far away. Han Pu knew this meant she had already caught something. He quickly found his flint and lit the fire, and by the time the flames were going, Fengxi was already back — a mountain pheasant in one hand, two wild fruits in the other.

“Drink these first — quench your thirst.” Fengxi tossed the wild fruits to Han Pu.

He caught them and immediately bit down, sucking hard at the juice and letting out a long breath of relief. The sour and astringent juice, at this moment, was not so different from the finest nectar.

“Pu’er — do you want roast pheasant, or beggar’s chicken?” Fengxi made quick and practiced work of plucking the pheasant and cleaning it, the efficiency of her movements suggesting years of experience.

“Roast…” Han Pu said around a mouthful of fruit flesh, caring only that there would be food to eat soon.

“Then we are having Feng-style roast pheasant.” Fengxi skewered the bird and propped it over the fire. “Pu’er — the fire is a little low. Blow it up a bit.”

“Whooo!” Han Pu finished one of the wild fruits and had recovered a scrap of energy. He poked at the fire and gave it a blow.

“Not enough — bigger!” Fengxi said, sprinkling seasoning across the bird. “Blow it up bigger or you will be gnawing on bones later.”

Knowing full well that Fengxi meant what she said, Han Pu took a deep breath, gathered his qi down to his dantian, and with every last bit of strength he had, blew: “WHOOOOO!!!”

BANG.

Firewood and ash exploded into the air. Black cinders rained down in a fluttering cloud, settling all over both of them — hair, faces, clothing, everything.

“Han Pu.” Fengxi wiped a hand across her face. The white face that emerged from beneath the ash was now a black face. She opened her eyes and forced the two words through her teeth, her voice falling like frost in deep autumn.

“I did not do it on purpose!” Han Pu’s reflexes took over; he curled into a ball and bolted for the undergrowth. In that moment, he was moving considerably faster than any wild rabbit.

“Stop right there!” Fengxi shot after him, and he was already nowhere to be seen.

Han Pu crept through the bushes in slow, careful inches, terrified of making any sound that might betray his location. For the hundredth time, he was overcome with regret — he should have followed Hei Fengxi. At least before killing him, he would have given him a proper last meal.

Hssst. A soft sound behind him. The pursuit had arrived. He leapt out of the bushes and used every bit of his imperfect and rudimentary lightness skill to flee.

Ding. A sound of cutting wind at the back of his neck — some weapon slicing through the air, swift and unstoppable.

“I did not do it on purpose! I will be more careful next time!” Han Pu wailed desperately as he ran.

But the wind at the back of his neck only pressed closer, and a wave of cold was already nearly upon him.

Fengxi could not possibly be this ruthless — could she? He glanced back in a panic — and felt roughly three of his six souls and two of his three spirits abandon him on the spot.

It was as though an entire sky of snowflakes, dense as driving rain, was sweeping toward him, each one edged with needle-sharp brilliance. He would be swallowed whole — and he had no time to marvel at the dazzling beauty of it before the sharp edges were nearly at his skin, a bone-deep cold reaching him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and in his mind rang only one thought: Elder Sister — save me.

A very long time passed. The piercing pain of blades cutting through his body never came. Even the cold had faded significantly. Everything around him seemed extremely quiet. Han Pu opened his eyes the slightest crack and looked — and nearly lost his breath entirely.

A gleaming sword tip rested one inch from his throat. He traced the sword upward with his eyes. Two inches from the tip, two fingers lightly held the blade — a long middle finger and a thumb, dusted with black ash, pinching the sword with effortless ease. He continued up past the fingers — past a hand gripping the sword. Elegant, pale, slender fingers utterly unlike the two that held the blade. He followed those hands, those arms — and arrived at a face white as snow. Snow-pure, snow-beautiful, snow-cold, and — like snow — snow-fragile, as though a single touch of wind would send that face flying away, dissolving.

“Have you been frightened witless?” Fengxi’s voice, unhurried and sardonic, reached his ear.

“Elder Sister!” Han Pu threw himself at her in excitement, and every trace of cold vanished at once. The heart that had been jumping wildly settled back into its rightful place.

“Mm.”

Fengxi gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment, yet her eyes had gone to the person before her. Man or woman? Setting aside that face — everything else suggested a man. But what a face — and what a person. Hair like snow. White robe like snow. Complexion like snow. And those eyes — transparent and ice-clear as snow. And an air about him — cold and detached as snow. The only thing that was not white were two sword-dark brows sweeping into his temples.

Could someone this beautiful — this snow-like — also be as fragile as snow?

The thought had barely formed before her left hand lifted and she flicked a finger against the flat of the blade. A clear ring — the blade trembled — and the snow-white man’s sword hand shook slightly. But he held on, and those snow-clear eyes locked onto her, and his pupils took on the strangest tinge — a faint and pale blue.

“Oh?” Fengxi was genuinely surprised. That flick had carried fifty percent of her inner energy. She had expected the sword to fly from his hand. That he had held it meant his inner energy was no small thing.

The snow-robed man, meanwhile, was far more astonished. This woman — coated in dust and ash, a face full of black grime, looking for all the world like she had crawled out of a mudpit — had just casually caught the full thrust of his sword with two fingers. And a single flick from her had nearly made him lose his grip — he had only kept hold by pouring every last thread of his inner energy into that one hand. Who was she? When had a woman of such martial skill appeared in the martial world?

“I release — you sheathe?” Fengxi tilted her head and glanced at the snow-robed man from the side. The corner of her mouth curved, a faint smile forming on her face — though with her face as black as it was, smiling looked somewhat comical.

“Or else…”

Sure enough — a flash of killing intent crossed those beautiful eyes. The pale blue within them deepened, like that particular shade of sky above a snowfield. His whole bearing surged with a sharpness that pressed outward and bore down on her — like a warrior on a battlefield burning with the will to fight.

What pride. The thought rose in her unbidden.