As we pressed forward, the trail of spiritual essence led us deeper into the forest, its glowing threads guiding us like a celestial map. Just as we reached a clearing where the Dual Bloom stood in radiant splendor, a shadow darted past us, swift and silent as a wraith.
Ruan Yanjun's eyes narrowed. "So, a rat's been tailing us," he muttered, his tone dangerously calm.
Before I could respond, he was already moving, a streak of motion as he chased after the thief. My instincts screamed at me to follow, and I hurried behind him, my legs burning with the effort to keep up. The shadow was fast, but Ruan Yanjun was faster, and it wasn't long before we cornered the intruder.
The scene I stumbled upon sent a wave of unease through me.
Ruan Yanjun stood tall, his presence dominating, while the intruder knelt before him. The thief was an aging man, his body hunched and frail, his hair streaked with gray. Despite his age, desperation burned fiercely in his tear-filled eyes.
"Please," the man begged, his voice hoarse and trembling. "The Dual Bloom—it's for my wife. She's dying. I've searched for years... Please, have mercy."
In Ruan Yanjun's hand, the Dual Bloom gleamed—a delicate, otherworldly flower with petals of white and crimson that shimmered faintly in the fading mist. He looked down at the man coldly, unmoved by his plea.
"Mercy?" Ruan Yanjun's voice was sharp, cutting through the old man's sobs. "You think mercy grows on trees like this flower? I should kill you where you kneel for daring to steal from me."
"Lord Ruan," I interjected, my heart twisting at the sight of the man's anguish. "His wife is dying. Maybe we should give it to him. We can find another way."
"Nonsense," Ruan Yanjun snapped, his gaze flicking to me briefly before returning to the man. "There's nothing left for you here. Leave."
The old man hesitated, his hands trembling as he clasped them together in a final, silent plea. Then, seeming to resign himself, he rose unsteadily to his feet and began to shuffle away.
But the man wasn't done. In a sudden burst of speed that belied his frail appearance, he lunged at Ruan Yanjun, his hands outstretched to snatch the flower.
It was a mistake.
Ruan Yanjun moved faster than I could follow, his free hand raised as a blast of pure energy erupted from his palm. The old man was thrown backward, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.
"Lord Ruan!" I shouted, rushing forward as he raised his hand again, another surge of energy gathering at his fingertips. "Stop!"
My intervention was enough to make him pause. The old man, clutching his chest, used the moment to stagger to his feet and stumble into the mist, disappearing from view.
I turned to Ruan Yanjun, my chest heaving. "He's just an old man, desperate to save his wife. Let him go."
Ruan Yanjun's eyes gleamed with cold amusement. "And you actually believe him?"
"That man's wife needs the herb more than I do," I said firmly, though the words felt like lead in my throat.
He stepped closer, his gaze piercing as he studied me. "A-Fan, that man is lying. He's mad, desperate for something that doesn't exist."
"As far as I can tell, his sanity is still intact," I replied, my voice quiet but resolute.
His smirk faded, replaced by a calculating expression. "Fine. Let's assume he's sane and telling the truth. Answer me this. Between you and that man's wife, who do you think should I save?"
I faltered, the question cutting through my resolve. My conscience screamed one answer, but my heart whispered another.
Finally, I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. "Lord Ruan, the flower can only give me a few more months. For the man's wife, it could mean years. It's more practical to let him have it."
His expression darkened. "Practical?" His tone was sharp, almost mocking. "Practicality is saving the person who matters to me. That woman is nothing. You are everything. I didn't endure this cursed forest and that guardian for someone else's sake. My A-Fan's life is the only life that concerns me."
I despised the way his words sent my heartbeat into a frantic rhythm, but I couldn't deny the profound impact his unwavering concern for me had on my heart.
He turned abruptly, the Dual Bloom still in his grasp. "Now, stop wasting time. Let's go."
I stared at his back, my heart a storm of conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted to argue, to insist on doing the right thing. But another part—the part that wanted to live, no matter the cost—kept me silent.
As I followed him down a pathway, he faltered without warning, his steps wavering as he suddenly leaned to one side. I reacted instinctively, reaching out to catch him before he could fall. His weight bore down on me as I steadied him, his body uncharacteristically slack.
He felt cold.
I glanced at him, alarmed by his pallor. His face, usually full of an irritating, infallible vitality, was drained of color. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin, and his breaths were shallow and uneven.
"Lord Ruan, what's wrong?" I asked, my tone calm, though my mind raced with questions.
"It's nothing," he muttered, his voice strained as he pushed against me, trying to stand on his own.
I didn't reply, but I didn't release him either. Something was clearly wrong. Ruan Yanjun was not someone who could be so easily shaken.
When he finally managed to straighten himself, he brushed my hands away, as if his dignity couldn't bear the weight of my support. His movements were deliberate but lacked their usual precision, like a master swordsman pretending his hand hadn't slipped.
"Overexertion," he said, almost dismissively. "The fight with the guardian was more demanding than I anticipated."
I didn't respond, my eyes narrowing slightly as I studied him. The excuse was plausible, but his expression betrayed a deeper truth. His usual self-assurance was there, but something flickered behind it—something like pain.
He took a step forward, unsteady but determined, and I followed silently.
"Don't hover," he said curtly, his back to me.
I didn't answer. My presence wasn't hovering. It was just there, as always.
His movements grew steadier after a few moments, but I kept my eyes on him, watching for any further signs of weakness. My thoughts churned quietly. If he was truly unwell, why wouldn't he say so? He was arrogant, yes, but not reckless. He wouldn't jeopardize himself unless…
Unless he believed he couldn't afford to show weakness.
I pushed the thought aside for now. If he wanted to pretend he was fine, I would let him—for now. But I would watch.
As we continued deeper into the forest, I glanced at his profile. His jaw was tight, his gaze focused ahead, as though willing his body to obey him through sheer force of will.
"Lord Ruan," I said quietly, finally breaking the silence.
He turned his head slightly, acknowledging me without looking back.
"Don't push yourself too far," I said simply.
His lips curled faintly, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Since when did my A-Fan care so much?"
I didn't answer, letting the silence speak for me.
We moved on. I kept my distance, but my gaze lingered on him, each step I took shadowing his unspoken struggle. His secrets didn't need to be spoken for me to understand their weight.