Ruan Yanjun's lips quirked in a faint smile. He reached for the wine bottle, pouring a generous amount into a single cup. As he lifted it to his lips, I blurted out, "Lord Ruan, I've already used that cup."
"I know," he said simply, taking a deliberate sip.
I blinked, stunned. The Ruan Yanjun I'd heard about was meticulous, almost obsessively so, when it came to cleanliness. Yet here he was, drinking from the same cup I had used without hesitation.
"Let me fetch another for you," I said, rising from my seat.
He raised a hand to stop me. "There's no need. We'll be traveling together for a long time. It's better if we both get used to sharing."
I frowned slightly. Sharing? Why would that be necessary?
Before I could question him further, he reached into his robes and placed something on the table. I stared at the object, my breath catching when I realized what it was. My mother's locket, the one I had pawned in a moment of desperation.
"I bought that back from the pawnshop," he said, his tone nonchalant. "Don't pawn it again. It's an heirloom—you should treasure it."
"I meant to retrieve it," I said defensively. "But… unexpected things happened."
"If you need money, just ask," he replied smoothly. "Don't sell off your valuables. You've already endured enough indignities."
"I've already taken too much from you. Asking for more would be excessive."
He chuckled softly, the sound low and disarming. "A-Fan, I don't mind how much I spend on you. Everything I've invested will return to me a hundredfold once I've restored you to your rightful place. So don't hesitate to ask. But if your pride won't allow it, I'll arrange for you to receive a monthly allowance. Consider it your salary."
I frowned. "Salary? For what? I've done nothing to earn it."
"Accompanying me in your current state is work enough," he said lightly. "There may be things you need that I can't foresee, so it's best you have your own money. But don't think for a moment you could use it to escape me. There's nowhere you could go that I wouldn't find you."
I sighed, weary of his confidence. "I have no intention of running. I gave you my word, and I will honor it."
His smile widened, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. As long as you remain loyal and obedient, we'll get along just fine."
"And as long as you treat me with respect," I added sharply. "Do not compromise my dignity in public again."
His expression shifted, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "A-Fan, as long as you don't provoke me, I won't have to punish you. But as for my teasing? That's non-negotiable. It's my only source of entertainment these days."
"Your teasing makes me uncomfortable," I muttered, frustrated.
"Then you need to build some resilience," he said with a shrug. "Life isn't always comfortable. Learn to find humor in it. You might even enjoy yourself."
I clenched my fists under the table but didn't respond. Perhaps he was right—this was the real world, after all, one that cared little for my ideals or sensitivities. If I was to survive alongside someone like Ruan Yanjun, I would have to adapt.
He poured himself another drink and raised the cup in a silent toast. As I watched him, I couldn't decide if he was an ally or an adversary. All I knew was that my path, for better or worse, was now entwined with his.
"Where are we headed next?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent, though my curiosity betrayed me.
"We're going to Silang," Ruan Yanjun replied as he lowered his empty cup.
I froze, though I made sure not to show my surprise. Silang was a distant empire, far beyond the lands I had ever dared to imagine myself visiting. The journey there would be arduous, stretching across treacherous mountains and forests.
The prospect of entering Silang stirred something conflicted within me. It was the heartland of the most esteemed light cultivators, the seat of great grandmasters whose names alone commanded
reverence. The thought of meeting such figures filled me with a cautious hope. Perhaps I could even find a sect willing to accept me—a place to belong once more.
But that fragile hope crumbled as quickly as it formed when I remembered the truth. The dark core. It pulsed faintly within me even now, a quiet, invasive force that didn't belong.
"Lord Ruan," I began hesitantly, my voice breaking the silence. "There's something I need you to clarify for me."
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. "Speak."
I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "…Why is there a dark core inside me?"
He didn't even flinch. It was as though he'd been expecting the question.
"When did you discover it?" he asked calmly.
"The night I was abducted," I replied, my voice tight.
He nodded, almost approvingly. "So it's only recent. You handled it well, though, against that lunatic Purple Rogue. I thought you'd known about it for some time."
I clenched my fists. His nonchalance stoked the fire of my anger. "Lord Ruan," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Was it you who implanted the dark core inside me?"
"Who else?" he said, his tone maddeningly casual, as though we were discussing something trivial.
"For what reason?" I demanded, my anger threatening to boil over.
"It was necessary," he replied, his voice calm but resolute.
"Necessary?" I hissed. "Because I angered you? Because I refused to be your pawn?"
He sighed, as though I were a child throwing a tantrum. "That wasn't the reason, though I admit your defiance hastened my decision."
I fought to control my breathing, knowing full well what would happen if I gave in to my emotions. The dark core fed on negativity, growing stronger with every surge of anger or despair. "Lord Ruan, you think this is a small matter, don't you? A mere inconvenience for me to endure. But I was born with a light core. It was my destiny to follow the light cultivation path. Now, because of your actions, my light core is being devoured."
"That's because of your imbalance," he replied, his tone almost instructional. "The dark core feeds on your negative emotions. If you can master them—if you can balance the two—you'll achieve something unprecedented."
I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to lash out. "Balance? How can I balance opposing forces within me? You've cursed me with this thing, and now you tell me to embrace it?"
He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening, though it did little to soothe me. "Removing the dark core is not an option. Once implanted, it cannot be extracted without nullifying your light core as well. And your light core has already survived one nullification—it wouldn't survive another."
His words hit me like a hammer. The thought of losing my light core once again filled me with dread.
"Why not see this as an opportunity?" he continued. "If you master the two cores, you'll be the only dual-core cultivator in the world. You'd wield a power greater than any light or dark cultivator alone."
I stared at him, stunned by his audacity. "You think I should be grateful?"
"You should," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "This dark core isn't just any core—it's a fragment of the ancient demonic core, an artifact of immense power. Unlike ordinary cores, my demonic core can't be passed down freely. It can only bond with one host, and I chose you. You should feel honored."
"H-honored?" My voice cracked as I repeated his words. "You mean to tell me… this is a demonic core?"
He laughed, a rich, deep sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Don't be so dramatic. It's not the demonic core—only a by-product. While it carries a fraction of the demonic core's power, it lacks its more... unsavory qualities. Think of it as a stronger-than-average dark core."
I shook my head, disbelief coursing through me. "I didn't even know cores could differ in quality."
"Of course they can," he said, as if explaining something obvious. "Even your light core is superior. Why else would it have survived the nullification process?"
My mind reeled. None of this had been in the books I'd studied. My master had never mentioned such distinctions.
"How do you know all this?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "No one has ever told me anything of the sort."
"Because no one knows," he said simply. "Only when a cultivator reaches the eighth level can they truly understand the nature of cores. And as you're well aware, there isn't a single living eighth-level cultivator today."
"History records a handful
who reached that level," I countered. "Why wouldn't they share this knowledge?"
He snorted lightly, his eyes narrowing with distaste. "Because they're self-centered."