The training grounds of the Falling Phoenix Pavilion had long since grown quiet.
The sounds of swords clashing and Qi crackling had faded into the whispers of crickets in the evening haze.
Lin Fan sat beneath the cherry blossom tree—yes, the sa one he had trained under a hundred tis—lost in the mory of a smile.
Not Lan Yinyin’s. No. That smile had shattered. Crushed into dust the day Hei Long walked off with her hand in his.
No... this smile belonged to soone else now.
Her na?
Mu Lanyue.
The sect’s most enigmatic alchemist.
Rumored to have descended from the Ice Phoenix Clan, her mastery over soul-healing elixirs had garnered attention from grand elders across four domains.
Her presence was serene. Untouched. Aloof. Her eyes rarely lingered, but when they did...
She had looked at him. Once. Just once.
And Lin Fan had felt warm for the first ti in months.
He had decided—this ti, he would be first.
This ti, he wouldn’t let his feelings rot into nothingness, wouldn’t be outmaneuvered, outshined, out-stolen.
The Plan of Pursuit
By the second day of stalking—ahem, observing—Mu Lanyue’s routines, Lin Fan had mapped out a perfectly innocent and completely not-creepy titable of her entire schedule.
Morning ditations by the jade koi pond. Afternoon refinent labs on the 9th terrace. Evening scroll studies in the Violet Moon Archives.
He even stopped eating spicy food so his breath wouldn’t offend her.
That was how serious he was.
"I’m not going to ss it up this ti," Lin Fan whispered to himself, holding a bouquet of spirit poppies.
A hand patted his shoulder.
"Good luck with that, loser," Hei Long said, smiling faintly.
Lin Fan froze.
No.
No, no, no.
He turned slowly to see Hei Long strolling past with casual ease, heading in the sa direction. Toward the koi pond. Toward her.
Lin Fan almost dropped the flowers.
Hei Long, Again?
It didn’t make sense.
Hei Long was supposed to be in the Spirit Realm, still honeymooning with Lan Yinyin—or so the gossip vines had whispered.
But here he was, walking barefoot through the garden, a flute strapped to his side, his robes clean, crisp, arrogant.
"Why are you even here?" Lin Fan asked, voice dry, mouth suddenly tasting of tal.
Hei Long stopped, turned slightly, and smirked.
"Wandering," he said. "This world’s full of beauty. It’d be a sha to only enjoy one flower forever, wouldn’t it?"
Lin Fan’s knees almost gave out.
The Mont of Collapse
When he arrived at the koi pond, bouquet now clutched like a lifeline, he found Mu Lanyue already seated beneath the willow tree.
And Hei Long... playing a gentle lody beside her.
Flute notes danced like wind through leaves, stirring her hair ever so slightly.
She was smiling.
Not like Lan Yinyin’s mocking laughter. Not like the pitying gazes he’d received since the matchmaking festival.
This was genuine. Subtle. Intrigued.
Lin Fan wanted to scream.
Instead, he stepped forward.
"Mu Lanyue!" he called.
Her gaze shifted toward him.
He held out the bouquet. "These are for you."
She blinked once, looked at the flowers... then looked at Hei Long.
Lin Fan didn’t need to hear her next words.
The look was enough.
The Descent of Madness
Lin Fan didn’t sleep that night. He instead began building a new shrine.
Not for worship. Not for prayer.
For vengeance.
Within the hidden corners of the alchemy wing, he drew blueprints for sothing forbidden. Sothing terrible.
A concoction that would supposedly "reverse soul entanglents," "cancel emotional resonance," and "make girls think you were hot."
He dubbed it: Project Ember Cry.
One part heaven-seared mandrake. Two parts phoenix ash. One part pride. All burned together in the Crucible of Heartbreak.
It exploded.
Twice.
The third ti, it just laughed at him.
anwhile, Hei Long...
Hei Long didn’t even seem to be trying. He just existed—and won gathered.
Mu Lanyue began walking with him in the mornings. Asking about flute techniques. Sparring with him—sparring!—in the evenings.
The elders were talking again.
Lin Fan even caught his own spiritual sword writing "Hei Long 4 Ever
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