LUO FAN
— ✦ —
I woke suddenly, my eyes snapping open to the faint sound of paws padding through the undergrowth around us. The rustle of dried leaves was barely perceptible, but to someone like me, with heightened senses, it was enough. The campfire still burned faintly, its light casting flickering shadows that danced eerily across the surrounding trees. Whatever was out there, it was keeping its distance, biding its time.
I remained perfectly still, my body tense, straining to detect the presence. The faint sounds ceased, but the silence was more unsettling. It felt deliberate, like whatever it was had noticed I was awake. Was it retreating or merely hiding deeper in the shadows?
Cautiously, I reached out and placed a hand on Lan Feng's shoulder, shaking him gently. He awoke instantly, his body reacting with an instinctual sharpness that surprised me. His dark eyes locked onto mine, reading the tension in my posture.
Without asking, he reached for the bamboo stick we kept nearby and handed it to me.
We sat in silence for several minutes, the only sounds our slow, controlled breathing and the occasional crackle of the dying fire. But the forest remained still. No further rustling. No growls. No breath but our own.
"Go back to sleep," I whispered, my voice no louder than a breeze. "I'll keep watch."
"You're exhausted," Lan Feng replied, his voice calm but resolute. "You should rest. I'll stay on guard."
I frowned, reluctant. "What if the enemy is stronger than you? You're still not at your full strength."
He glanced at me, his eyes steady. "If that happens, I'll wake you. Trust me."
A silent contest followed, neither of us willing to give in at first. But eventually, I exhaled in defeat, lying back down with a quiet grumble.
"Don't let your guard down," I muttered, casting him a final wary glance.
He leaned in slightly, close enough for the firelight to catch the softness in his expression, and tapped my nose lightly with one finger. "Go to sleep. I'll keep you safe."
Despite myself, a tiny smile tugged at my lips. I closed my eyes and tried to remain alert, but exhaustion had taken root too deeply. Slowly, the forest faded around me, and sleep took over.
The next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by a guttural growl—deep and vicious—that shattered the stillness of early dawn like a thunderclap.
I sat bolt upright, my heart pounding, and instinctively grabbed my bamboo stick.
Lan Feng was gone.
Panic surged through me until I spotted him, barely lit by the last glowing embers of the fire, locked in a brutal struggle with a massive, shadowy form.
I rushed toward them, weapon in hand, and as I drew closer, the creature stepped into view—and my breath caught in my throat.
It was monstrous.
Larger than any beast I had seen in years, it stood as tall as two men, its body hunched and sinewy, covered in bony protrusions that jutted like jagged blades from its spine. Its fur was patchy and unkempt, clinging to its grotesque frame in matted tufts. Beneath the patches, pale skin stretched tight over swollen muscle and scar tissue.
Its eyes glowed like embers—two crimson orbs burning with malevolent intelligence—and its jaws snapped with unnatural hunger, revealing rows of jagged, yellowed teeth coated in thick saliva.
But what struck me most wasn't the size or the ferocity.
It was the familiarity.
This creature looked exactly like one of Ji Yun's pets. Ji Yun, the Beast Master of the Illusive Ghost Sect. I had seen this monster before, though not in this state. The one I encountered aboard the ship had been terrifying, but this… this thing looked like it had crawled out of death itself and returned to finish what it started.
Lan Feng moved with impressive agility, dodging the beast's lunges and swipes while delivering calculated strikes with his stick. His form was precise, fluid—yet the monster was relentless. It moved with unnerving speed for its size, letting out a bone-rattling growl as it snapped its jaws at him, its breath reeking of decay.
"Lan Feng!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos as I bolted forward.
He glanced at me for the briefest moment, determination burning in his gaze. "Stay back!" he commanded, his voice steady despite the ferocity of the battle.
I ignored him. There was no way I would stand by and do nothing. As I charged in, the beast shifted its focus toward me, its blood-red eyes locking onto mine. That brief distraction was all Lan Feng needed—he struck hard, landing a powerful blow to the beast's exposed side. It howled in agony, the sound echoing through the trees like a violent drumbeat.
The creature retaliated immediately, lunging at me with jaws wide open. Its fangs missed my arm by mere inches. I pivoted and slammed my stick into its abdomen with all my strength. The blow landed with a sickening thud, and the creature staggered—only to recover with startling speed. Its whip-like tail lashed toward me with a sharp crack.
Before it could strike, Lan Feng darted forward, intercepting the tail mid-air with a precise swing of his stick. The wood splintered and broke in his hands, but he didn't hesitate. He dropped the shattered shaft and snatched another from the ground, fluid and unyielding. "It's too strong for us to handle alone!" he shouted, his voice hoarse from exertion.
"We don't have a choice!" I shouted back, narrowly avoiding the arc of a claw that tore through the air beside me.
The fight was brutal. The creature's strength was overwhelming, and though blood now matted parts of its fur, it showed no signs of slowing. Its roars vibrated through my chest, and my arms ached with every block and strike.
Still, we fought. Together. Without speaking, we moved as if guided by instinct—covering for each other, exploiting every weakness the beast exposed. Our rhythm was born of desperation and trust. Every blow we landed brought it closer to the edge of collapse.
Then the opportunity came.
I swept my stick low, knocking the beast's hind leg out from under it. It stumbled—just long enough.
Lan Feng, eyes flashing with resolve, surged forward and drove the stick into its chest with a force that echoed with finality. The creature let out a final, guttural roar, one that shook the clearing like thunder, before crashing to the ground. Its limbs twitched once. Then it went still.
Lan Feng stumbled back, gasping for air. His stick, slick with dark, viscous blood, slipped from his grip and hit the forest floor with a dull thud. Around us, I noticed dozens of broken and discarded sticks scattered across the clearing.
He must have been out here gathering wood for the fire when the beast ambushed him. That was why he hadn't woken me. He'd faced the monster alone at first, with nothing but the kindling he'd meant to use for our breakfast.
I stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "You did well," I said softly, my own chest heaving.
He turned to me, eyes wide, expression etched with exhaustion and disbelief. "It's dead?"
"It's dead," I confirmed, nodding.
For a long moment, we stood there in silence, the battle's fury slowly fading. Our hearts pounded in our ears, breaths ragged and uneven.
"Let's get out of here before its owner finds it," I said urgently, scanning the darkened forest for any sign of pursuit.
"Owner?" he asked.
"That beast looked like the pet of the Illusive Ghosts Sect's grandmaster. They call him the Beast Master for a reason—he's known to tame monsters. I heard he has five pets, and that was just one of them."
"Then he must be nearby," he said, his voice low.
"That's for certain," I replied grimly.
Without hesitation, Lan Feng stepped forward and hoisted the massive corpse onto his shoulder. The beast's grotesque form sagged with dead weight, but he carried it as if he had done so a hundred times before. His steps were deliberate, steady, powerful.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, hurrying after him as he began moving deeper into the wilderness.
"We can't leave it here," he called over his shoulder. "If the Beast Master tracks it back to where we made camp, he'll know exactly where we were. And if he has the other four pets with him, we'll have nowhere to hide."
Even without his memories, his instincts were sharp—cunning, strategic. The kind of foresight I had always associated with Ruan Yanjun. I sighed under my breath and followed him, pushing myself to keep pace as he veered toward the cliffs we had seen earlier that day.
We arrived at the precipice moments later. Lan Feng didn't hesitate. He paused just long enough to brace himself before he hurled the beast's corpse over the edge. It disappeared into the darkness below, followed by a distant, wet crash as it collided with the rocks.
He turned to me, eyes set with a fierce determination. "We need to move quickly. The Beast Master will start searching at first light."
I nodded. Without another word, we returned to the campsite and set to work in silence, methodically erasing every trace of our presence. The last embers of the fire were buried beneath a layer of soil. Our belongings were packed with deliberate care. I gathered the broken sticks Lan Feng had used during the fight, then soaked the bloodstains with a pungent herb mixture to mask their scent. I poured the rest of the liquid over the pool of blood on the ground, watching as it darkened and sank into the earth. Every sign—every drop, every mark—had to vanish.
By the time we finished, it was as if we had never been there at all.
Under the cover of darkness, we slipped through the forest, keeping low and avoiding open paths. We didn't dare light a torch—it would be an invitation to be hunted. Every rustle of leaves, every snapping twig, made my senses flare. The hours dragged on in tense silence as we pressed forward, putting as much distance as possible between us and the battleground.
When the first streaks of dawn bled through the trees, I glanced over my shoulder. The forest behind us lay still and silent. No movement, no glowing red eyes, no sign of pursuit.
Lan Feng's plan had worked. If the Beast Master was tracking his pet, he had gone in the wrong direction.
But we didn't ease up.
We kept going well into the morning, stopping only when the sun beat down relentlessly and hunger finally gnawed at our stomachs, too sharp to ignore.
Lan Feng found a shaded spot beneath a large tree, where we finally stopped to catch our breath. As I sat down, my eyes drifted to his robes—the dark stain of the beast's blood stood out starkly against the fabric.
"Take that off," I said. "We need to wash it. They might be able to track us by the scent."
Without hesitation, he slipped out of the robe and handed it to me. While he changed into a clean one from his pack, I carried the bloodied garment to the river. I plunged it into the cool water and scrubbed vigorously, but no matter how hard I worked, the stench of the beast's blood clung stubbornly to the cloth.
Lan Feng joined me by the riverbank, his voice calm but unwavering. "Let it go," he said. "The risk isn't worth it. If they can track it, it'll only lead them to us. Let the current take it."
I froze, fingers tightening around the robe. It wasn't just a piece of clothing—it had been a gift from Chief Li, a symbol of goodwill and the brief peace we'd found in that village. Letting it go felt like erasing part of that memory.
But Lan Feng was right.
Reluctantly, I loosened my grip. The robe slipped from my hands and was swept away, carried downstream, tumbling over the rocks until it vanished from sight.
I crouched by the river's edge, rinsing my hands and splashing water onto my face in a futile attempt to clear the fog in my mind. The exhaustion of the past days crashed over me all at once, and as I tried to stand, a sudden wave of dizziness hit. My vision dimmed.
"Luo Fan!"
Lan Feng's voice cut through the swirling haze as my legs gave out beneath me. Before I could hit the ground, he was there—arms steady, breath sharp with panic—as he caught me against his chest.
I struggled to lift my gaze, vision blurred, the world narrowing to the warmth of his embrace. His face hovered above mine—worried, tender, and achingly beautiful. In that fleeting instant, he didn't look like a devil at all. He looked like a god who had descended just for me, fierce and divine beneath the dappled light. Someone I could trust.
Even as the darkness closed in, I didn't resist it.
Because somehow, I knew he would keep me safe.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
LAN FENG
— ✦ —
He collapsed into my arms like a silk ribbon slipping loose from its knot—weightless, far too still.
"Luo Fan!"
His name tore from my throat as I caught him, heart hammering with panic. I swept us beneath the shade of a broad tree—the nearest shelter I could find—and gently lowered him to the ground, cradling him against my chest. My breath came in uneven gasps as I looked down at his face.
His skin was cold—deathly cold. I brushed the damp strands of hair from his forehead with trembling fingers, trying not to let the fear show. His long lashes quivered faintly, but his eyes remained shut. And his lips—those lips I had watched too often, too long—had turned pale, drained of all warmth, like frostbitten petals after a winter storm.
I pressed two fingers to the gate of his vitality.
My blood turned to ice.
His light and dark energies were at war—locked in a violent, spiraling clash that tore through his meridians. I could feel it radiating beneath his skin, a storm of radiant and shadowed forces threatening to devour each other—and him.
We had never spoken of it aloud, but I had known the truth the moment I saw him summon both light and darkness back in Mao Hai's home. I had seen it with my own eyes during the battle—the opposing energies that coiled around him like breath and heartbeat, natural and unnatural all at once.
A dual core bearer.
I'd heard the stories. Tales whispered in sect halls and forbidden scrolls. Such cultivators were called aberrations. Freaks. Cursed by heaven. Too powerful. Too unstable. Too dangerous.
But now, holding him in my arms, I felt no fear.
Only awe.
He possessed a dark core—and yet he remained righteous. Selfless. Gentle, even when the world gave him nothing but cruelty in return.
While I...
I swallowed hard, shoving the thought aside. This wasn't about me. His core was collapsing into chaos, his spiritual energy lashing out wildly. Already, I could see wisps of black mist escaping the corners of his closed eyes—tendrils of raw, poisoned qi.
If I didn't act now, his body would enter full qi deviation. And that...
That could kill him.
My chest tightened.
What do I do?
I had no pills, no talismans. My own cultivation had barely recovered. To absorb even a portion of that wild energy might destroy me. I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't ready.
But I couldn't just sit here and watch him suffer.
Suddenly, he stirred. A low, broken sound escaped his lips. His body jerked faintly, curling in on itself. Then, through a shallow, ragged breath, I heard him whisper—
"Lan Feng..."
I froze.
He said my name. Not in anger. Not in confusion. But as if I were the only one he could call to.
As if, even while unconscious, some part of him still reached for me.
The sound pierced something in me. I wanted to hold him tighter, to speak, to promise—but there was no time for words. Not now.
His life was in my hands.
I pressed my palm against his chest, right over the frantic thrum of his heart. It beat unevenly, like a song on the verge of shattering. I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to will his rampaging energy into mine—to draw the darkness away from him.
But nothing happened.
Strange.
My core was dark too, though damaged. It should have been capable of absorbing energy like his. But it remained still, unresponsive.
He moaned again, his lips parting slightly, and I saw thin wisps of black qi swirling inside his mouth like threads of smoke trapped behind glass. They hovered just behind his teeth, pulsing, desperate to escape yet bound in place.
I didn't have time to think. Instinct took over.
I leaned forward, pressing my thumb gently beneath his jaw to tilt his head back, opening him to me. The moment I did, the spiraling qi within his mouth seemed to stir—like it sensed me. Like it wanted me.
Then, without even knowing why, I lowered my head and pressed my lips to his.
The world fell away.
His mouth was warm, softer than I'd dared to imagine, the taste of him like something sweet laced with power. My eyes fluttered shut. For a heartbeat—maybe longer—I forgot everything. His pain, the danger, even who we were.
There was only the kiss.
Only him.
And then, deep inside me, my demonic core flared to life.
It moved—not with force, but with purpose. It reached out, brushing against Luo Fan's dark core like a lover recognizing its pair. The energy between us surged. I felt his qi pour into me, dark and heavy, but not wild anymore.
It came willingly.
No—it came eagerly, as if it had always belonged to me.
And my core… welcomed it. Drew it in. Drank deeply.
There was no struggle, no resistance. It flowed smoothly from him to me, like a thread slipping into a needle's eye. A perfect fit.
Pleasure bloomed in my chest—unexpected, overwhelming. Not the carnal kind, but something deeper. Something intimate. It felt like our souls were entwined, as though the kiss was more than physical—it was a bond. A joining.
And damn, it felt so good.
Even as my mind screamed at me to stop, I couldn't. Even if I could have, I wasn't sure I wanted to. My body trembled with it—this dizzying, forbidden ecstasy that came from touching him like this, taking from him, joining with him.
I had never felt anything so consuming. So terrifying. So right.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.
The pull ceased. My demonic core quieted, sated.
And reason returned to me like a slap.
I gasped and pulled away, breath shaking, lips tingling with the aftershock of connection.
What… what had I done?
I stared at him, heart pounding with guilt—and something else I couldn't name.
But he looked peaceful now. His color had returned, his brow was smooth, his lips relaxed. He slept soundly, his breathing deep and even. The violent qi that had threatened to consume him was gone.
He looked beautiful again. Radiant.
And I…
I felt stronger. My demonic core throbbed with new vitality, as though it had advanced.
How?
It didn't make sense. Absorbing that much dark energy from someone as powerful as Luo Fan should have broken me. But it hadn't.
Which could only mean one thing.
There was a connection. A link deeper than mere affinity.
Could it be… that I—
No. He—Ruan Yanjun—was the one who gave him the dark core? Implanted it inside him?