Akin jolted awake from the dream. His breaths came in ragged gasps, as though he had been running through a storm that lasted an entire lifetime. Cold sweat drenched his body; damp strands of hair clung to his forehead. He sat motionless upon the bed, swallowed by the darkness of night, listening only to the frantic pounding within his chest.
Thud… thud… thud…
The sound rang sharp and clear,, almost as if it echoed from another realm.
Slowly, he lifted his trembling hand and stared at it.
The same hand that, within the dream, had tried to shield and protect, only to pass through everything like drifting mist. Unable to touch…. Unable to change fate.
His fingers gradually curled into a fist.
Ling Shan's figure surfaced once more in his mind, walking past him with that calm, distant expression. Cold. Resolute. Without hesitation.
And then….
That single tear. Only one. Yet heavier than ten thousand descending swords. It forced Akin to see Ling Shan anew. Akin closed his eyes briefly, forcing his breathing to slow.
(I'm glad… that you felt pain for it.)
At the very least, that tear proved Ling Shan was not merely a heartless blade, not merely a judge standing above ashes without a tremor in his soul.
Akin let out a long breath and lowered his hand to his lap.
"At least…" his voice was soft in the darkness, "it makes me want to help you fix what you once did wrong."
There was no anger in those words. No condemnation. Only understanding.
He lifted his hand and pressed it lightly against his chest, patting once, as if comforting someone who dwelled deep within him. The touch was gentle, yet firm enough to echo faintly in the still room.
"It's alright," he murmured. "If you once became the sword… then this time, I'll be the one who holds it."
Gradually, his heartbeat steadied. The sorrow from the dream had not faded. The questions still burned quietly within him. Yet beneath that pain, something else had begun to take root. Resolve.
"What you couldn't change back then…" Akin whispered, his gaze growing steady in the dark, "I'll help you change it now."
A faint night wind brushed past the window. It sounded almost like another soul's quiet sigh. And in the space between heartbeats….It felt as though someone had heard him.
And deep within the depths of his soul…it felt as though something answered that vow in silence, nothing more than a faint whisper of wind.
The next morning, soft dawnlight filtered through veils of mist draped over the mountain peaks. The scent of damp earth lingered in the courtyard after the long night. Light footsteps echoed gently along the stone path before the pavilion.
Xue Rong. The young lady of a noble household, renowned for both her beauty and her lineage, stepped forward with familiar grace. Her delicate features were adorned with a gentle smile. She wore pale pink silk robes embroidered with intricate snow-blossom patterns, her flowing sleeves swaying with every measured step.
Behind her followed her personal maid, who had attended her since childhood.
In Xue Rong's hands was a large woven basket. Inside were precious herbs, aged ginseng roots, dried lingzhi mushrooms, and carefully wrapped portions of still-warm dishes that released fragrant steam into the cool morning air.
She had come here… as she always did.
For years now, she had climbed this mountain, through rainstorms and drifting snow, only to visit him, the man who cultivated in solitude within this humble residence.
"You still refuse to take proper care of yourself," Xue Rong said softly as she arranged the dishes upon the low wooden table.
"So I had no choice but to bring more this time. I was afraid you would immerse yourself in training again and forget even to eat."
Her eyes were gentle, yet beneath that gentleness lay an unwavering determination.
As she worked, her gaze drifted toward Ling Shan's palm. The wound there had not fully faded.
It was the same hand that had once received the edge of the Jade Sword barehanded. A shadow of concern flickered across her eyes, though she quickly masked it. When everything was neatly arranged, she drew in a quiet breath.
There was something she had long held within her heart…. And this morning, she intended to speak of it.
"My father said…" She paused, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. "It is time for you to formally come and ask for my hand."
Her father, the wealthiest silk merchant in the city, could no longer bear to watch his daughter wait without promise or certainty.
"It has been many years," Xue Rong continued with a gentle smile. "I have never failed to visit you. Not even snowstorms could stop me."
Her gaze rested openly upon Ling Shan.
This was not a fleeting infatuation. It was devotion measured in seasons.
"Or is it that…" her voice softened, "you have never truly intended to keep me by your side?"
The morning breeze drifted through the pavilion. The scent of medicinal herbs mingled with the faint fragrance of new silk. In the silence between them, her question weighed heavier than anything unspoken.
She lowered her eyes, unable to hide the trace of hurt.
Yet within Ling Shan's body, Akin felt no tether of affection toward her. He could admire her beauty, her sincerity, but his heart did not move.
Ling Shan clicked his tongue softly, drawing Xue Rong's attention.
He stepped closer and sat down across from her at the table. Reaching out, he gently took the hand that still held her chopsticks.
"Mm… Xue Rong, is it?" he said.
She nodded.
His hesitation was visible, so much so that even the maid behind her shifted uneasily.
"You know I have only just recovered," he began, then corrected himself, "No… I have not fully recovered at all."
He gave a faint, awkward smile.
"You are beautiful. Any man, myself included, would easily fall for someone like you."
"Then… why…. "
She tried to interrupt, but when her eyes met his, she faltered. There was something unusually serious in his gaze today, something distant.
"It seems… the former me must have left you waiting time and again."
Inside, Akin's thoughts tumbled.
(You fool, Ling Shan… How do I know?)
(But after seeing you in that dream… I can already guess. The type to leave his girl waiting at home while he runs off chasing righteousness and demons, hm?)
Ling Shan fell silent mid-thought.
Xue Rong leaned slightly closer, searching his expression.
"Left me waiting?" she asked quietly.
There was no accusation in her tone, only wounded confusion.
Ling Shan's fingers tightened slightly around her hand before slowly releasing it.
"I… do not remember everything," he admitted at last. "There are gaps in my past. Feelings I cannot find. Promises I cannot recall making."
His voice was calm, but unyielding.
"If I were to ask for your hand now… it would not be fair."
The words hung between them like an invisible blade.
Ling Shan startled slightly when Xue Rong leaned closer.
For a fleeting second, the closeness made him uncharacteristically flustered. Xue Rong seemed to notice; she straightened at once and withdrew the hand he had been holding, returning to her seat with composed grace.
Within Ling Shan's body, Akin understood that gesture perfectly. He had always been good at reading people,, at sensing what lay beneath their expressions. He gave a small nod to himself, piecing together the unspoken tension.
"Tell me… have the two of us ever…" he began carefully.
The question was innocent enough, but both Xue Rong and her maid flushed crimson at once, clearly flustered.
"Oh," Ling Shan cleared his throat lightly. "Then… perhaps we should save that conversation for when we are alone."
He offered an awkward smile before turning back to the generous spread of dishes on the table.
Behind him, Xue Rong and her maid exchanged a glance, then forced identical, embarrassed smiles.
As the meal continued, the morning felt calmer than usual. Steam rose gently from the herbal soup. The fragrance of ginseng and goji berries mingled with freshly cooked rice, warming the small residence with a sense of domestic peace.
Ling Shan sat quietly, lifting food to his lips with measured movements.
But within him, Akin's heart was anything but calm.
The image of the white fox.The sound of ten thousand descending swords.
And one name echoing in his mind, Baihu.
He paused mid-motion, then slowly raised his eyes to Xue Rong.
"Xue Rong," his voice was steadier now, "do you know the way to Baihu Village?"
Her chopsticks froze in midair. For a brief instant, something flickered in her eyes.
"Why do you ask about that place?" she replied softly.
Ling Shan met her gaze directly. "I simply wish to know."
Xue Rong lowered her chopsticks and let out a quiet sigh.
"Of course I know it," she said at last. "That village… is where everything changed for you."
A breeze slipped through the window. The wind chime outside rang faintly.
"You were gravely injured there," she continued, choosing her words with care. "When you returned from your mission in Baihu Village, you had lost your memories."
Her eyes dimmed at the recollection.
"When they found you… you were barely alive."
The air seemed to grow heavier. Inside Ling Shan's chest, Akin felt his heartbeat quicken.
Fragments of a dream. Echoes of a past soaked in ash. And now… A name….. A place…..The beginning of the truth.
Akin's heart jolted violently in his chest.
"What mission?" he demanded at once.
Xue Rong shook her head slightly. "That… I do not know the details."
She lowered her gaze before continuing. "It was assigned by your friend. He serves in the imperial court, an official within the civil administration."
Ling Shan narrowed his eyes faintly.
"Who is he?"
Xue Rong hesitated only for a breath before answering.
"He Jin Feng." She met his gaze, sorrow lingering in her eyes.
"The Governor of Qing'an City."
Qing'an City lay only half a day's ride from Baihu Village.
"He has been your closest friend since your years studying at the Imperial Academy," Xue Rong continued softly. "When the incident at Baihu occurred, he was the one who personally reported it to the court."
Ling Shan fell silent.
The name He Jin Feng stirred no memory within him.
Yet somewhere deeper, within the part Akin could sense, something shifted. Like fragments of a shattered puzzle slowly inching toward one another.
"After you returned…" Xue Rong's voice grew gentler, "you never once spoke of Baihu Village again. Not even a single time."
Her eyes were filled with concern.
"And whenever anyone mentioned the demon fox… your expression would change."
The word fox made Ling Shan's fingers tense unconsciously. White fur. Silver eyes. And the sound of a young girl crying. The images flashed through his mind in less than a heartbeat.
His grip on the chopsticks tightened.
"I will go there," he said evenly.
Xue Rong stiffened. "To Baihu Village?"
"Yes."
His tone was not loud, yet it carried unmistakable resolve. She remained silent for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"If you insist… I will have a carriage prepared. And I shall send word ahead to Governor He Jin Feng."
Ling Shan did not answer immediately.
His gaze grew distant, as though piercing through the walls of this modest residence, far beyond, to a village once swallowed by a rain of swords.
Within Akin's mind, one thought became clearer and clearer.
(The truth about Baihu… did not end on that night. And perhaps… the Governor of Qing'an City knows far more than anyone suspects.)