While in the air, Fan Yi glanced down at the man in his arms. The carefree look from earlier finally melted from his face. His brows furrowed with concern as he reached up and carefully placed the back of his hand against the man’s forehead. He was still burning with a fever despite the pill Fan Yi had given him earlier. Even with internal injuries, the pill could heal a man in only a few short minutes. And if a man was his last breath, the pill would be able to preserve his life for a long time. Seeing the state Wú Língtiān (吴灵天) was still in, it seems the many nights of torture had even done a powerful cultivator like Wu Lingtian in.

“It’s okay,” Fan Yi held Wu Lingtian closer to himself in an attempt to transfer over a hint of warmth. “You’ll be fine soon.”

But the man who had long fainted from blood loss did not even shift in response.

“Just hang on for a bit longer,” Fan Yi whispered as he urged his sword to go faster. “After you wake up, I’ll give you all the candy you want.”

Fan Yi chuckled a little at his own sentence, but the mirth he managed to find in the situation didn’t last long. He felt his heart hammering against his own chest as anxiety started to fill his entire person. He guided his sword higher up, pushing it to go faster and faster. Every few minutes, he would glance down at the man in his arms, worrying that the light heaving of his chest would suddenly stop. Luckily, even as the hours passed by, the man continued to breathe, though Fan Yi could feel it grow fainter and fainter.

As night slowly faded to day, Fan Yi finally caught a glimpse of a building he had been longing to see amidst the foggy sunrise. Very soon, the clouds parted ways to reveal an immortal-like sect, sitting atop a mountain range spilling with spiritual energy. The main hall sat against the side of a cliff and, winding down, various other buildings could be spotted. There was a battle range closer towards the bottom while, near the back of the mountain was an archive that housed the history about the sect since its establishment, along with any secret techniques and recipes that they may have made or discovered. Towards the entrance of the sect was a tower that reached high into the sky where the disciples would normally be on watch for any intruders.

Today, the disciples on guard recognized their sect leader immediately. They bowed their heads and clasped their hands into a salute as Fan Yi flew in through the array without giving them a second glance.

The sword smoothly landed on the ground of the empty sect. With a slight flick of the wrist, Fan Yi’s sword disappeared from thin air in a light shimmer of blue light. Fan Yi’s feet continued onwards, carrying him towards a zigzagging bridge that sat above a small koi pond, leading into a humble estate. He walked steadily, but quickly, until he made it into the guest bedroom in the courtyard opposite of his. He kicked the door open and rushed inside. The moment he made it in, he carefully set Wu Lingtian down and rushed back out the door. He began to call for Zhū Hé (朱和) and Zhū Xuě (朱雪) as he did so.

The two servants appeared in front of Fan Yi almost immediately with their heads bowed.

“Get me two basins with water and some cloth and gauze,” Fan Yi spoke as he began to roll up his sleeves and walked into his room to grab his medicine box. “Also bring me a set of spare clothes once you are done.”

“Yes, Sect Leader,” the two siblings echoed each other before disappearing again without a trace.

Fan Yi hurriedly rushed back into the guest room and began to carefully examine Wu Lingtian’s injuries. His brows furrowed at the sight of the clasps that were gruesomely wedged into scalpula bone. Fan Yi thought about it for a moment before reaching into his medicine box and producing a jade bottle. He unplugged it and shook out a few pills. He squeezed Wu Lingtian’s jaw and slipped the pills in.

Once the basins of water and the cloth arrived, Fan Yi began to carefully cut Wu Lingtian’s robes.

The procedure was slow and lasted until the sun was halfway across the sky.

Fan Yi sat down and looked at Wu Lingtian, lying on the bed bandaged from his neck down to nearly his toes. The red robes were in tatters and had already been discarded to the side. The two clasps that had been wedged into Wu Lingtian’s shoulders laid in a basin of bloodied water alongside various clothes that had previously been white. Fan Yi glanced down at his bloodied hands and stood up as the two servants each took a bowl and followed after Fan Yi.

The moment Fan Yi opened the door, he was greeted by two familiar faces.

“How is he?”

Fan Yi glanced at Rèn Yīzhōu (任一周) and sighed as he walked. “He’ll survive.”

“Righteous cultivators…they may as well be demonic cultivators,” Tian Xiewen grumbled as he followed Fan Yi down the steps into the courtyard. He turned to speak to Ren Yizhou. “You sure took your sweet time setting up your red strings though. If you had been there—well, I guess you wouldn’t have seen—but if you could see, I bet you would have jumped out of your skin. Not only were his hands and his feet chained, he was also locked into the wall by his shoulders. Everything worked to restrict his spiritual energy. Even the cell was made out of Stygian Iron. I felt so suffocated and I was only in there for a few minutes.”

Ren Yizhou walked with their head straight ahead, ignoring the small remark about their sight. “Even if I can’t see, I could still smell. The amount of blood that came from the little lord’s body is not something to be trifled with.”

Fan Yi let out a sigh as he made his way to the well. Tian Xiewen stepped forward and threw the bucket in, drawing water out for Fan Yi as Ren Yizhou asked another question.

“What are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” Fan Yi’s hands were held out as he waited for the water.

“Well, you’ve practically just declared war on Drifting Clouds Mountain Sect. What do you plan to do?”

Fan Yi stared at the clouds above. They drifted by, forming odd shapes as they moved along with the wind. Fan Yi felt a sense of relief but also a sense of loss—something he hadn’t felt in quite a long time. He hummed as Tian Xiewen placed the bucket of water down in front of Fan Yi. Fan Yi knelt down and stuck his hands into the water that had been warmed by the summer heat.

“Wait till Yu Lan Sword Immortal (玉兰剑仙尊) wakes up,” Fan Yi said. “If he wants to stay, we’ll induct him in. If he wants to leave…”

Tian Xiewen stuck his tongue in his cheek and watched the sect leader. “…If he wants to leave?”

“…Trap him,” Fan Yi stood. He picked up the bucket and threw the dirty water into the grass nearby. Tied the bucket back up to the string. He turned to the other two. “He is not fit to leave yet anyway.”

“Trap him,” Tian Xiewen whispered to himself as he watched Fan Yi walk off. He leaned down slightly and whispered to Ren Yizhou. “Fan-ge is sure domineering, isn’t he?”

Ren Yizhou placed their hand on Tian Xiewen’s face and pushed him away. “That is just how your Fan-ge is, little wolf.”

Tian Xiewen wrinkled his nose as his body bounced back to its previous position. Ren Yizhou had already walked further away, turning the corner and walking the opposite direction of Fan Yi. Tian Xiewen stood in the courtyard and slowly straightened as if nothing happened. He rubbed at his nose and let out a soft sigh as he turned and left the courtyard himself.

Everyone is more easily irritable during the summer days.

As everyone returned back to their daily routine, the scorching summer sun seemed to be beating down more relentlessly than usual today. The disciples that had yet to cultivate far enough begged to roll their sleeves up. A few others even went as far to take off the top layer of their robes on top of rolling up their sleeves. Boys and girls who usually had their hair in ponytails or rubbing against their neck opted for a topknot to keep the hair from their shoulders and their necks.

Any training that the disciples normally did with great vigor was pushed aside or slowed down. If one were to walk through Screeching Sparrow Sect today, they would see disciples strewn across the grassy field, laying under the shade of trees or near the banks of lakes and rivers. Each and every one of them looked like a salted fish.

Fan Yi, who came out from a lengthy bath, was greeted with such a scene. If any righteous sect leader saw this, they would blow up at the sight. However, Fan Yi simply walked past the groups of limp bodies and slowly made his way to the service hall.

He walked towards the neat building and lightly knocked on the door. Fan Yi stood in silence as he listened to the hurried footsteps. The door was soon opened. A childish face greeted him, beaming largely up at him as she stepped back to let him in.

“Shizun! What are you doing here?”