Chương 71: Crossed Lines

Trigger warnings apply. Reader discretion is advised: Fu Zhan entered the cave they had dug out with all the swagger and arrogance of someone who believed the world owed him obedience. Master Mo Jian watched him with a stony expression as he dismantled the protective formations he had so meticulously laid earlier. Bai Ning nearly protested; why allow an enemy already at their door to walk in unchallenged? But the thought died as soon as it surfaced.

They had been discovered, and denying Fu Zhan entry now would change nothing. He was only the vanguard; the true enemy would follow close behind, and against that force, they had no choice but to comply. Fu Zhan looked infuriatingly well-rested, as though the nightmarish final round and the confrontation that followed had never happened. There was no sign of injury or strain, not even the faintest trace of fatigue.

His robes shimmered with threads of silver and gold, and even his hair swayed softly, as if freshly washed and carefully groomed. In every respect, he resembled the archetype of a wealthy young master; out for a leisurely stroll from his sect. Only his expression shattered the illusion. It was wide and leering, stripped of all restraint, as if a feral joy had devoured what little humanity he possessed and left him swollen with it.

Coupled with his somewhat effeminate features and half-open robes that bared his chest, he looked less like a man and more like a demon wearing human skin. As if to confirm the thought, his first words were suitably hellish. His gaze swept lazily over their hiding place, brows arching in mockery, before settling on Mo Jian.

"Well, well," he said, delight thick in his voice, "it seems that reckoning came a bit earlier than you expected." Mo Jian did not answer, his grim eyes fixed on Fu Zhan. Bai Ning's hands clenched white-knuckled around her magical tools, hatred burning so fiercely in her stare that she half expected it to strike him down where he stood. The Heavens, however, were unkind. Rather than faltering, Fu Zhan only looked more pleased and more unhinged.

"That's a lovely expression," he said, lingering over Bai Ning's fury as though tasting it.

"I think I'll enjoy breaking you in." Before she could step forward and cut him in half, Master Mo Jian finally moved. Only half a step, but it was enough to stop her cold.

"You are alone?" he asked, surprise edging his voice.

"If your grandfather isn't here, how did you even find us?" Fu Zhan's grin faded as his gaze shifted to Mo Jian. Then, incongruously, he smiled again.

"I don't like your tone," he said mildly.

"But since all dogs need training, I'll let it pass this once. As for whether my grandfather is here or not, what does that matter to you? To you, I may as well be him." He let the arrogant declaration hang in the air. Master Mo Jian showed no reaction, neither to the insult nor to the threat beneath it. Bai Ning took her cue from him. This was not the moment to give her anger free rein. Mo Jian was stalling, she could feel it. Fu Zhan, however, seemed unimpressed by the silence. He snorted.

"As for how I found you-" He extended his hand. Bai Ning nearly flinched as the Sanguine Blood Banner dropped into his grasp from nowhere. Its richly embroidered cloth caught the light in harsh flashes, while the pale pink wood looked almost bleached white beneath the cave's faint blue luminescence.

"-anyone who has ever been trapped in the mist of this banner is marked forever," Fu Zhan continued lightly. He turned to Bai Ning then, a leer painted on his face.

"No matter where you flee, no matter how far away, I will always be able to hunt you down." As he spun the banner with mocking ease, Bai Ning squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. Again. She had made everything worse again. It was her fault he had found them. Would this horrible day never end? Why-why were they being- A sharp clap cut through her spiraling thoughts. The cave shuddered. Bai Ning's eyes flew open.

"Mind your tone when speaking to my disciple," Master Mo Jian said, his voice glacial. Bai Ning had never heard him speak like this, like his anger was an eruption held in check by sheer will.

"Or I will discipline you myself, since it's rather obvious your grandfather failed to do so. Now, do you have anything worthwhile to say, or is just more empty boasting?" Fu Zhan froze for a heartbeat, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. Then he laughed. He laughed so hard he doubled over, slapping his thigh as though Master Mo Jian had just delivered the finest joke in the world. His chuckles echoed through the cave, ringing unnaturally while the other two stood in grim silence.

"Ah," Fu Zhan said at last, theatrically wiping at his eye.

"I haven't heard something that funny in quite a while." The mirth vanished in an instant. His expression turned venomous, his voice sharp with promise.

"So, who do you think is going to punish whom?" he asked.

"It seems you're in need of heavy training." He clapped his hands, planting the banner at his feet, and straightened.

"But," he continued lightly, "you do raise a good point. I didn't come all this way for nothing, so I suppose I should say it plainly first. I'll collect your groveling apologies later." He nodded to himself, satisfied, and smiled again, just as mocking, and just as leering as before.

"The two of you are in great trouble." He seemed to relish the words, his gaze sliding from Master Mo Jian to her.

"I-" he jabbed a finger at his own chest, his voice rising, "-am here to show you a way out of your predicament. Accept my offer, and the… punishment coming your way will be greatly moderated. At the very least, it's far better than dying a dog's death beneath the sea, no?" Neither of them replied. Master Mo Jian listened with the same stony expression he had worn from the start, while Bai Ning silently prayed that whatever plan he was brewing would come to fruition soon.

She was already sick of listening to Fu Zhan. Unaware, or simply uncaring, of her thoughts, Fu Zhan continued.

"Bai Ning, you possess a rare talent. Why, even my grandfather has expressed interest in someone reaching the peak of Foundation Establishment so early." His smile sharpened.

"Become my concubine. I possess an exceptional dual cultivation technique. Together, we will rise to great heights." Any pretense of subtlety was gone now; his gaze was openly vile. A shiver of anger and revulsion ran down Bai Ning's spine. Her qi surged in response, sparks flaring along the Green Karma Sword clenched in her right hand. Fu Zhan noticed and seemed amused.

"Don't look at me like that," he said mildly.

"It's a splendid offer. Do you know how many women would kill to stand where you are? With my grandfather's tutelage, the two of us will be like the dragon and phoenix, ascending to the heavens together." His eyes gleamed.

"With your talent and my intellect, we might even surpass him." Visions of that "happy" future danced in his gaze, and Bai Ning clenched her teeth until she feared they would crack. Still, Master Mo Jian remained impassive, his anger tightly leashed. Keep calm, she told herself. Let him talk. The important thing is to escape and make sure he can never track us again. Fu Zhan's expression grew increasingly animated as he spoke, painting a future only he could see.

"Just imagine it," he said, already savoring his dreams.

"What we could accomplish together. Core Formation would be a certainty, with Nascent Soul not far behind. And I have no intention of stopping there. My grandfather is content with these salt-stained rocks, but I want more. Imagine it: two immortals, bound together. The whole world would be ours to shape as we please." He spread his arms wide, as if to encompass that imagined world, or worse, to embrace her. Bai Ning loosened her clenched jaw enough to speak, shooting a subtle glance at her teacher.

He still had not uttered a word, appearing, for all the world, to be listening seriously, if angrily, to Fu Zhan's drivel.

"I have no intention of doing anything with you," she snapped, "except perhaps driving a sword through your rotten heart. The islands? The world?" She laughed, sharp and mirthless.

"What miserable dreams you have. I want to live on the moon. I want to explore the cosmos. I want to see the world of murim, and all the others as well. I want to reach Heaven and feel that I deserve it. And I want to do it with those I love by my side. I would sooner slit my own throat than have anything to do with you." She had begun loudly, nearly shouting, but as the words spilled out, her voice softened, not in weakness, but in certainty.

By the end, her gaze was steady, her anger cooling into something cleaner and more controlled. Why was she afraid? Yes, things were dire, perhaps worse than they had ever been, but had her dreams ever been anything but absurd? She dreamed of Heaven, and yet she was letting herself be driven to the brink by this man? How could she ever climb high if something like this was enough to unbalance her? If the world was something meant to be cut, then she was the hand that decided where, when, and how the blade fell.

Fu Zhan was a pebble on her path, not a mountain. And if she allowed herself to fall into his pace, to see the world through his eyes, then that would be a far greater failure than anything she had ever done, or failed to do. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He saw it too: the certainty in her eyes, and the resolve in her voice. Whatever reaction he had wanted, this was not it. An ugly expression twisted his face.

For a moment, he looked like a wild animal stripped of all warmth and humanity. His face went from cold to calculating to cruel, finally settling on something feral, like a savage wrapped in human skin. Then it smoothed away, though the disdain remained.

"Oh?" he said softly, almost dangerously.

"My dreams are pathetic? It seems I'll have to educate you on how to speak to your lord after this. But fine." His gaze sharpened.

"You say you want your loved ones by your side?" There was a new note of derision in his voice.

"Then do it for them."

"Or do you imagine anyone connected to you will meet an easy end? I already know you hail from the Greater Dharma Sect. Do you truly believe that middling power will remain intact with the enemies you've made?" He chuckled.

"Your parents may have fled for now, but how long can a pair of nobodies really stay hidden? And those friends of yours; a rogue cultivator and an entertainer's pupil? They'll be begging for mercy by this time tomorrow." With every name he spoke, Fu Zhan's smile widened, until he was openly laughing. Bai Ning felt her hard-won equilibrium begin to slip. She knew Master Mo Jian had sent messages – warnings to her parents to lie low, to avoid the sect, but what did that matter? If they were found…

if they were harmed because of her-"And what of this teacher of yours?" Fu Zhan continued, savoring the moment.

"Even the kindest fate awaiting him would be more cruel than you can imagine." His eyes gleamed.

"But I can save him. Agree to become my concubine. Swear a Dao oath to obey me in all things, and I'll take him in as a dog." He smiled, slow and filthy.

"Who knows? If he behaves himself, I may even give him to you after I'm finished with his punishment. You can do whatever you like with him, save for taking him to bed." He laughed softly.

"A generous offer, no?" The sheer wave of physical revulsion that surged through her at those words, at the image of this man as her husband while he tortured her teacher, was enough to make her qi spike. Her aura unfurled, raw and violent, radiating disgust, fury, and naked bloodlust. She wanted to kill him. But before she could do anything, Master Mo Jian finally moved. He lifted a sardonic eyebrow, as though Fu Zhan's words were nothing more than an amusing jest.

"Such grand ambitions," he said lightly.

"Tell me, what will you do if we refuse?"

"Refuse?" Fu Zhan's tone was openly, exaggeratedly disbelieving.

"Refuse, in your position? You bastard, you can't refuse. You struck me." He patted his chest as he said it, not looking the slightest bit hurt, only gleeful.

"My grandfather will tear strips from your hide and torture your soul for eternity. And if she refuses-" he jerked his chin toward Bai Ning, "-it won't matter. She'll come with me willingly or not." Bai Ning stepped forward, ready to show him the error of his words, but Master Mo Jian's hand clamped down on her shoulder without even glancing her way, the grip bruising. His tone remained light, as if he were chatting with Fu Zhan over tea, utterly at odds with the grim cast of his features.

"Such confidence you have," he remarked.

"Your grandfather must have granted you protection worthy of a Nascent Soul cultivator for you to feel so secure. A talisman, perhaps? Or some other defensive treasure?" He sounded almost as though he were thinking aloud, musing over a puzzle rather than addressing Fu Zhan at all. Fu Zhan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Surprise flickered across his face before hardening into incredulous, deepening mockery.

"You bastard, are you dense? What defense? What talisman? I am Fu Zhan." He raised his banner and slammed it down with each word, nearly shouting his own name.

"Go on, strike me again. I dare you. I won't even defend." He spread his arms wide, deliberately halting the circulation of his qi, shedding even the instinctive passive defenses most cultivators maintained. Master Mo Jian did nothing, though Bai Ning's hand twitched on her sword. He was open, practically begging for it, but that was the point, wasn't it? His grandfather, Old Devil Fu, loomed over every exchange. To strike him again… was not an option. Fu Zhan's smile turned victorious.

"Well? Go on. Can you?" He chuckled.

"No. The only thing you can do is accept my mercy. Kneel before me and bark like a dog, and I'll ensure you're only whipped a few hundred times instead of being handed over to my grandfather." His gaze slid back to Bai Ning.

"And your student can willingly warm my bed and dual cultivate with me, or-" his smile twisted with sardonic amusement, "-I can have someone hold her down. It matters little in the end." He shrugged. Bai Ning had to close her eyes and draw a slow breath to keep from lashing out. This… despicable cretin. Whatever mask of geniality he had worn during the tournament had been completely stripped away.

Master Mo Jian spoke to her then, not with words, but with qi, the message carried through the hand resting on her shoulder. It was simple, yet unyielding, heavy with intent and expectation: Don't move. Don't speak. No matter what I do. No matter what happens. Promise me. She swallowed, then sent back her assent. He was finally acting on whatever plan he had devised. She would not ruin it with impulsiveness or anger. Master Mo Jian stepped forward, his earlier fury seemingly extinguished.

He appeared calm now, almost cool. He walked slowly, hands at his sides, and Fu Zhan watched him close the distance with one arched eyebrow, as if daring him to try anything. Bai Ning expected her master to strike, to knock Fu Zhan unconscious, bind him as a hostage, something. The frantic, fragmented plans racing through her mind refused to coalesce into anything beyond immediate violence. Instead, he surprised her. He stopped in front of Fu Zhan and, without the slightest hesitation, knelt. Silence fell.

Then she burst out, horrified.

"Master! What are you-" She cut herself off as his qi flared, the message he had sent her earlier echoing with crushing force in her thoughts: Don't move. Don't speak. No matter what I do. No matter what happens. Promise me. With effort, she swallowed her words, her anger, and her disbelief at what she was seeing. Because this? This looked like capitulation. He was simply… giving up? Surely not. Yet Mo Jian did nothing as Fu Zhan threw back his head and laughed.

He laughed and laughed, the sound growing sharper, more unhinged with every breath.

"Nice. Very nice," Fu Zhan managed, choking back his mirth.

"So the arrogance is gone at last, huh? What happened?" He leaned closer.

"You finally saw reality and got scared?" With each question, he poked Mo Jian in the head, pressing hard, as if trying to drill straight through his skull by force alone. Mo Jian did not react. His head remained bowed.

"But this isn't enough," Fu Zhan snapped suddenly, the laughter vanishing into something cold and frightening.

"Bark for me, my dog. Bark." Mo Jian responded like a trained animal.

"Woof," he said, his voice flat, and empty of inflection. Something inside Bai Ning twisted painfully. Tears threatened to spill, but she clenched her teeth, refusing to let them fall, refusing even the appearance of weakness. Was he really-? No. She would not believe it. Fu Zhan laughed again, utterly delighted.

"Good dog," he drawled.

"We're going to have fun together, you and I." His gaze drifted, thoughtful.

"Hmm… what should I make you do next?" Suddenly, he brightened.

"Ah, I know. How about you take your disciple in hand for me? Since she's going to be my concubine, I should take a proper look at her." The false geniality drained from his face as abruptly as it had appeared, nearly giving Bai Ning whiplash. He glanced at her, almost bored.

"Strip her naked. Let's see if that doesn't drive reality into that stubborn head of hers." Bai Ning froze as shock and horror crashed over her, but then instinct took over. Her barrier blossomed into existence around her, the Crimson Parasol flaring to life in her left hand. On the ground beside her, her sword stirred, its loops coiling and uncoiling like a living thing, trembling with agitation. Mo Jian did not rise. He did not even acknowledge the command.

When he spoke, his voice was as flat and colorless as before.

"Young master," he said calmly, "before that, may I ask you a question?" Irritation flickered across Fu Zhan's face, the anticipation there withering at once. He turned that same annoyed glare on Mo Jian, still kneeling before him.

"You… what kind of dog disobeys orders and then dares to ask a question? Is it because I haven't trained you properly yet?" He sighed heavily, as though deeply put upon.

"Fine," he snapped.

"Since I'm in a good mood, I'll be magnanimous. Ask." Mo Jian did not hesitate.

"Do you truly carry no protective treasures or talismans on you? Your grandfather really let you leave without any preparation?" Fu Zhan sneered, looking both incredulous and deeply affronted. He spat to the side.

"This again? Are you slow?" He scoffed.

"What need do I have for protective treasures? Who would dare to strike me?" His sneer twisted into smug satisfaction.

"My grandfather told me to wait, but I came after you anyway. He doesn't even know I've tracked you down yet. That's why this is perfect. I'll return to him with a full hand." He snapped his fingers, and something shot out of his storage pouch, landing neatly in his suddenly empty palm. Bai Ning's breath caught. It was the gui, General Han's Chariot. The same polished bronze she had seen before, now gleaming in the dim blue light of the cavern, as though encrusted with countless precious gems.

Fu Zhan's grin turned reverent, covetous.

"Once I bring back the gui and the two of you, even Grandfather will have to acknowledge my role in his eventual ascension. Losing the tournament was… unfortunate, but this more than makes up for it." He looked down at Mo Jian, gloating.

"Now do you understand? Don't worry, dog. My grandfather won't rescind any deal I make just because he doesn't know about it yet. That's your concern, isn't it? Let it go." His smile widened.

"As long as you properly atone for your earlier offense and serve me well, I'll see that you live."

"Satisfied?" Mo Jian's voice carried a note of something unidentifiable.

"I am. I have been examining you ever since you stepped into the cave, and as you said, I can detect nothing on your person that could serve as a protective treasure. Of course, the skill of a Nascent Soul cultivator is beyond me, but your words are sufficient reassurance. Now, there is only one thing left to do." Fu Zhan grinned, the corners of his mouth curling with wicked anticipation.

"Good. Then drag her over here and take off that dress slowly. I want to savo-" His voice faltered. Bai Ning watched as Fu Zhan blinked, confused, as if trying to understand why he had stopped speaking. He coughed once, then twice, and brought a hand to his mouth. It came away flecked with blood.

"-What?" he croaked, disbelief etching every line of his face.

"What… what's happening?" Dizziness swept over him, sharp and disorienting, visibly. In front of him, Mo Jian was rising, casually brushing the dirt from the knees of his robes, as if nothing had happened. Bai Ning watched Fu Zhan's gaze sweep the cave and land on her. Whatever he was searching for in her face, fear or anger or defiance, he found none of it. She gave him nothing. He tried to speak, to assert control, but a violent spasm wracked his chest.

She could see it in his face: the panic arriving slowly, then all at once, as his eyes dropped. A bloody, gaping hole yawned in the center of his chest. He tried to step back, to scream, but his legs faltered. His eyes darted to Mo Jian. Her master's hand was raised, calm and deliberate. The Heaven Enshrouding Ding, shrunken to the size of a peach pit, had shot through Fu Zhan's chest and emerged from his back so fast he hadn't even felt it. It had stuck to the cave wall, lodged deep into it.

Now it sprang free, reversing its course. Bai Ning watched, unblinking, as Fu Zhan's wide eyes followed it back; as it dove into the hole it had made, entering from behind and bursting out through the front in a fountain of blood and viscera. Time seemed to stretch. Blood spattered across her face and Mo Jian's robes. Neither of them flinched. The cave echoed with his ragged, helpless breathing.

"W-what…?" he croaked, his voice barely audible.

"I… I can't-" But before he could finish, blue flames erupted from his body, swirling with terrifying speed, burning with a cold, unearthly light. Heat, pain, fear; all of it was consumed in a flash. His eyes widened one last time, staring at nothing, at everything, before he fell silent. All that remained of him was ash.