The fire in the clearing burned lower after Deng Kuang died.
Fang Lin did not leave immediately. He stood beside the corpse with Night Burial Sword hanging loosely in his hand, while his restrained divine sense brushed across the nearby passages. He did not sweep too far. The dead valley was filled with old formations, black roots, and strange stone walls that seemed able to swallow sound. In such a place, using divine sense carelessly was no different from shouting into the dark.
The surviving Grey Sand Hall disciple remained kneeling with his forehead pressed to the ground. His shoulders trembled so badly that ash slid from his robe in small flakes. He did not dare look at Deng Kuang's corpse, and he definitely did not dare look at Fang Lin either.
Feng Jiu'er helped Lian Qing stand. The Blue Reed Pavilion disciple's face was still pale, but after swallowing the healing pill, her breathing had steadied. She held her returned storage pouch tightly, as if afraid that if she loosened her fingers, the ruins would take it away again.
Fang Lin looked at the kneeling disciple. "You said Deng Kuang heard about the black marks from another group. Where did that rumor begin?"
The disciple swallowed. "Broken Banner City. Before we were thrown here, people were already talking about it in the streets. Some said cultivators who passed the Black Judgment Lamp trial had strange black marks. Others said similar marks appeared in different trial sites too. No one knew the truth, but the words spread quickly."
He lifted his head a little, then immediately lowered it again when he saw Fang Lin's eyes. "Senior Brother Deng heard a Red Smoke Ridge cultivator say that marked people might have a chance to enter a deeper place after the fifteenth day. He did not know whether it was true. He only thought that anyone with a mark was worth robbing."
Lian Qing's fingers tightened around her pouch.
Feng Jiu'er's gaze cooled. "Red Smoke Ridge?"
Lian Qing nodded weakly. "They are a lower sect that often borrows Scarlet Sun Palace's shadow when it benefits them. Their disciples use red smoke, fire-sand, and poison mist. They are not famous for fighting cleanly."
Fang Lin's expression did not change. River Sword Sect had been mentioned with Red Smoke Ridge near the broken ravine, and now the rumor had a clearer path. Broken Banner City had gathered too many cultivators, too many injured mouths, and too much greed. A half-true rumor there could grow legs faster than a fleeing thief.
He looked back at the Grey Sand Hall disciple. "Take the lower passage and keep running until your legs forget how to stop."
The disciple froze.
Fang Lin continued calmly, "If Grey Sand Hall has more people nearby, tell them Deng Kuang bought his lesson with his head. If I hear that your people are still robbing the injured, I will assume my warning was too soft."
The disciple's face turned white. "Senior, I will speak loudly. I will speak very loudly."
"Then go."
The disciple rose unsteadily, bowed three times in a row, and stumbled toward the lower passage. He nearly tripped over a broken root, caught himself with both hands, and fled without looking back. His footsteps faded quickly into the dark.
Feng Jiu'er watched him leave. "You are letting him spread your name."
"A frightened mouth spreads a different kind of name," Fang Lin said.
Lian Qing looked at him with complicated eyes. "That may still bring trouble."
Fang Lin wiped the edge of Night Burial Sword with a strip of cloth from Deng Kuang's robe. The black blade drank away the remaining blood without a sound. "Trouble was already walking this valley before we arrived."
No one argued with that.
They left the clearing after scattering the fire and moving the corpses away from the open path. Fang Lin did not waste time searching every broken weapon. The storage pouches were enough for now, and the smell of blood had already seeped into the ash ground. In the Rivercloud Demon Sealing Ruins, a battlefield that stayed warm for too long would invite things that did not need eyes to find it.
Lian Qing walked between them for a while. Her steps were slow, but she forced herself not to be carried. Feng Jiu'er watched the left side of the passage while Fang Lin walked half a step ahead, his divine sense kept close and thin. Whenever the black roots along the wall shifted, Feng Jiu'er's fingers moved toward her sword, and whenever the stone beneath them sounded hollow, Fang Lin changed direction without explaining too much.
After a short distance, Lian Qing stopped near a wall where several dark-green reed marks had been carved into the stone. They were small, hidden beneath ash, and easy to miss unless one knew where to look.
"My sect leaves these when we scatter," she said quietly. "There should be Blue Reed Pavilion disciples not far from here. If I follow this side passage, I may be able to find them."
Feng Jiu'er looked into the narrow passage. "Can you make it alone?"
Lian Qing hesitated, then nodded. "If I cannot even walk after being rescued, I do not deserve to keep this pouch."
Fang Lin glanced at her. "Hide better than Deng Kuang searched."
For a moment, Lian Qing stared at him. Then a faint, exhausted smile touched her lips. "I will remember that advice too, Senior Shen."
Feng Jiu'er gave her one last look. "Do not trust anyone just because they speak politely."
Lian Qing bowed deeply to both of them. "Fairy Feng, Senior Shen, if Blue Reed Pavilion survives this ruins, I will remember tonight."
She entered the side passage and soon disappeared behind the dark reeds carved into the wall. A faint ripple of water-like Qi covered her trail, weak but careful. It was not enough to hide from a strong pursuer, but it would at least confuse ordinary eyes.
Fang Lin and Feng Jiu'er did not follow.
The valley ahead was still waiting.
They continued upward through the passage that led toward the broken ravine. The red glow became thinner, no longer firelight from a camp but a faint reflection from deeper stone. The air smelled of smoke, damp roots, and old blood. Once, Fang Lin found a smear of red powder on the ground. He crouched and touched the edge of it with a broken twig instead of his fingers.
The twig hissed and blackened.
Feng Jiu'er's eyes narrowed. "Red Smoke Ridge."
"Poison?"
"Smoke poison mixed with fire-sand. It burns after entering the breath." Her voice remained calm, but her expression sharpened. "Do not step into red dust unless you know where the wind is moving."
Fang Lin stood and looked toward the passage ahead. "Then they passed here recently."
"Or they wanted others to think so."
Fang Lin glanced at her, and the corner of his mouth moved slightly. "Good. You are beginning to distrust footprints properly."
Feng Jiu'er looked at him for a moment. "You say that as if you have been teaching me."
The faint smile on Fang Lin's face disappeared almost before it formed. "The ruins teach faster than people."
Feng Jiu'er did not answer, but her eyes remained on him a breath longer than before.
They moved around the red powder instead of crossing it. The passage narrowed after that, forcing them to walk closer together. Black roots hung from the ceiling like dead ropes, and thin cracks ran through the walls. The place was not silent. It breathed in small sounds. Stone shifted. Ash settled. Something scraped far behind them, then stopped when Feng Jiu'er turned her head.
Halfway through the narrow path, Fang Lin's steps paused.
Feng Jiu'er noticed at once, but before she could ask, a root as thin as a whip snapped from the wall toward her ankle. It had not moved like a beast but had waited like a trap.
Fang Lin reached back and caught her wrist, pulling her one step toward him as Night Burial Sword moved across his other hand. The black blade cut through the root before it wrapped around her leg, and the severed end struck the ground with a wet sound before burning under Feng Jiu'er's sudden flame.
The movement left them close enough that Feng Jiu'er could feel the cold aura around Night Burial Sword and the steadiness of Fang Lin's breathing. His hand released her wrist almost immediately, but the warmth of his grip lingered for a breath.
She looked at the dead root, then at him. "You sensed it before it moved?"
"The wall breathed wrongly."
Feng Jiu'er's eyes shifted. "Walls do not breathe."
"In this valley, that depends on the wall."
The answer was plain, almost careless, but something about it made Feng Jiu'er's thoughts pause. For a moment, the figure before her overlapped with another memory. A young outer disciple. A calm gaze. A way of speaking that made danger sound like a problem to be solved rather than a reason to panic.
Fang Lin.
The name rose in her mind before she could stop it.
She lowered her eyes slightly and withdrew her wrist fully. "You notice too much."
"It keeps me alive."
"That is also not an answer."
"It is the useful part of one."
Feng Jiu'er looked away first. The passage was too narrow, the valley too dangerous, and the person beside her too difficult to read.
They walked for another stretch before finding a hollow space beneath a collapsed stone arch. The space was not large, but the roots there were dry and still, and the stone above them blocked most of the red glow from the passage. A faint coldness gathered inside the hollow. It was not the hostile cold of the broken transfer arch from before. This cold was quiet, deep, and filled with Yin-darkness.
Fang Lin stopped near the entrance and checked the ground with restrained divine sense. He found no hidden talisman, no fresh footprint, and no root movement nearby. Only after that did he step inside.
Feng Jiu'er watched him closely. "Your ribs are hurting again."
Fang Lin looked at her. "They are stable."
"That was not my question."
He fell silent.
Feng Jiu'er took a clean strip of cloth from inside her sleeve and stepped closer. "Stand still."
"There is no need." He had Nether Spirit Qi, and could heal very easily, but decided not to use it for now.
"If there is no need, standing still will not trouble you."
Fang Lin looked at her for a moment, then allowed her to come closer. Feng Jiu'er's movements were efficient rather than gentle, but when she tightened the cloth around his side, she avoided pressing the worst part of the wound. Her flame Qi warmed the cloth slightly, drying the dampness left by the valley air.
Fang Lin kept his breathing even.
Feng Jiu'er noticed that too.
Most people either exaggerated pain to gain sympathy or hid it so badly that their pride became louder than the wound. Shen Mo did neither. He simply endured, as if being cared for was more difficult than being injured.
That, too, felt familiar.
When she finished, Fang Lin glanced at her wrist. A faint grey line remained where the sand net had nearly wrapped around her.
"Your meridian there is holding sand Qi," he said.
Feng Jiu'er looked down. "It is shallow."
"It is shallow because you burned most of it away. Circulate fire through the outer meridian first. If you drive it inward too quickly, the sand Qi will scatter into the wrist bones."
She studied him. "You understand this too?"
"I understand people who rely on cheap talismans."
Feng Jiu'er almost smiled, but the expression did not fully appear. She circulated her flame as he said, and a few grains of grey ash seeped from the skin near her wrist before falling away. The discomfort in her hand eased.
For several breaths, neither of them spoke.
Outside the hollow, the dead valley shifted. Somewhere far away, a cry rose and broke off. It might have been a cultivator. It might have been a beast imitating one. Neither of them moved toward it.
Feng Jiu'er sat near the entrance with her sword across her knees. "You are not only resting."
Fang Lin looked toward the deeper part of the hollow. The darkness there was heavier than the passage outside, and when he quietly tested his newly obtained method from Broken Banner City, the first Shadow Dewdrop near his foundation remained small but steady. It did not grant him sight, nor did it suddenly become a weapon. It only made the surrounding darkness feel easier to gather, as if this place suited the method's nature.
"I need to study something," he said.
Feng Jiu'er's gaze sharpened slightly. "The technique you cultivated when the formation activated?"
"I do not know whether it is connected to that formation."
It was the truth.
Feng Jiu'er seemed to hear that. Her expression softened by a trace, though her voice remained controlled. "Then study it. I will guard the entrance."
Fang Lin looked at her.
The same words had appeared once before, in Broken Banner City, when he had asked her to guard him during cultivation. Back then, it had been a temporary arrangement. Now, in this hollow beneath a dead valley, the words felt heavier.
"You trust me that much?" he asked.
Feng Jiu'er looked out into the dark passage. "I trust what I saw when the net fell toward me."
Fang Lin did not answer immediately.
Outside, the red gloom moved across the stones like a slow tide. Inside the hollow, the cold darkness settled around them, quiet and deep. Feng Jiu'er sat with her sword ready, proud and still, while Fang Lin lowered himself into a seated position behind her.
Between them, the silence no longer felt entirely like distance.
-