( The insuit)
The room had not yet settled when Zhang Lin finally spoke.
"What now?"
His voice was quieter than before—but heavier.
Not confusion alone.
Responsibility.
He stood at the bedside, his dark robe falling in clean lines around him, though the sleeve near his wrist still bore a faint crease from where he had gripped too tightly earlier. His gaze lingered on Zhang Wei for only a moment before lifting to Zhang Lie.
For once—
There was no immediate answer.
Zhang Lie exhaled slowly, his jaw tight, one hand resting against the edge of the broken window frame. The faint wind that slipped through stirred the ends of his deep blue robe, carrying with it that lingering metallic scent.
Before he could speak—
A knock.
Short.
Controlled.
Then the door opened.
Two senior disciples stepped in.
Their appearance alone spoke of what they had done.
Their gray robes were no longer merely wrinkled—they were marked. Dust clung heavily to the hems, and faint streaks—darker, less easily ignored—lined their sleeves. One had a split along his cuff, hastily tied back together. The other's knuckles were raw, the skin reddened and slightly swollen.
They bowed immediately.
"Elder Mi."
Elder Mi turned toward them, his expression already stern—but it sharpened further at the sight of what they carried.
In their hands—
A small bundle.
Wrapped in a thin, water-soaked cloth.
The fabric clung to itself, translucent in places, dripping faintly onto the wooden floor. Beneath it, something faintly luminous shimmered—subtle, but unmistakable.
Recognition struck instantly.
"The bottle…" Zhang Lin murmured.
Not glass.
Not ordinary.
A water-like vessel—fluid yet contained, something that should not exist in such a crude place.
It had been with Zhang Wei.
The moment they saw it, the air shifted again.
"We found where he was taken," one of the disciples said.
His voice was steady—but there was a tightness beneath it.
"As instructed."
Zhang Lie pushed himself off the window, stepping closer. "Speak."
The disciple nodded.
"The man who handled him… we captured him."
A brief pause.
"After some persuasion—"
His gaze flicked briefly to his companion's injured knuckles.
"—he confessed."
Elder Mi's eyes narrowed. "Go on."
The disciple swallowed once.
"This morning… a cloaked figure brought the boy in."
Zhang Lin's expression stilled.
"He was already unconscious," the disciple continued. "Locked inside a cage. The man said… he was told only one thing."
"To drain him in water—"
His grip on the soaked cloth tightened slightly.
"—and display him to VIP guests."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Cold.
Zhang Lie's hand curled slowly into a fist.
"And?" he pressed.
The disciple hesitated.
Just for a moment.
"Speak."
Zhang Lie's voice cracked through the room like a whip.
The disciple straightened immediately.
"The servant said… the manager grew greedy."
A pause.
"He intended to sell the boy."
The words alone were enough to darken every face in the room.
"To a woman," the disciple added quietly. "A noble. She had already… drugged him further."
Sang Sang's earlier fear echoed faintly in the back of their minds.
Zhang Lin's fingers tightened at his side.
"In hopes of… bedding him."
The room turned cold.
No one spoke.
No one needed to.
The implication was clear.
Had things gone even slightly differently—
The disciple lowered his head slightly.
"Fortunately… Young Master Ning's wife arrived."
Zhang Lie's eyes flickered.
"She intervened," the disciple continued. "Took the boy before the transaction could be completed."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Or else—
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Zhang Lie let out a sharp breath, turning away as he dragged a hand down his face.
Zhang Lin didn't move at all.
But the air around him—
Changed.
Colder.
Sharper.
"They dared…" Zhang Lie muttered, his voice low at first—
Then rising.
"They dared insult the Zhang family like this?!"
The force behind his voice made the oil lamp flicker.
The disciples lowered their heads instinctively.
"Don't worry," the second disciple added quickly, stepping forward. "We made sure he understood his mistake."
A faint edge of grim satisfaction slipped into his tone.
"We beat him until he apologized… in the middle of the street."
Zhang Lie gave a humorless scoff.
"Apology?"
Elder Mi's expression did not change.
But his silence was far more dangerous.
His brows were drawn deeply together now, his hands folded within his sleeves—but the faint tremor in the fabric betrayed the anger beneath.
An elder's anger.
Controlled.
Contained.
Burning.
"This is no longer an isolated incident," he said at last.
His voice was low.
Measured.
But every word carried weight.
"This was planned."
His gaze moved to the soaked cloth in the disciple's hands.
"To display him… to select buyers."
Zhang Lin's eyes darkened further.
Not a random act.
Not chance.
A system.
A market.
Zhang Lie's jaw clenched. "Then we burn it down."
"No."
Elder Mi's voice cut in immediately.
Firm.
Final.
"That is what they want."
The room stilled.
Zhang Lie frowned. "What?"
Elder Mi's gaze sharpened.
"Chaos. Conflict. Attention."
A pause.
"They are testing us."
That—
That made Zhang Lin look up fully.
"If we react openly," Elder Mi continued, "we expose him further."
His eyes shifted toward Zhang Wei.
Still sleeping.
Still unaware.
"We leave," he said.
The decision was already made.
"As soon as he can be moved."
No one argued.
Not now.
Not after hearing everything.
Elder Mi stepped closer to the bed, his gaze lingering on the boy longer than before.
There was something almost weary in his expression now.
Because this—
This was only the beginning.
And they all knew it.