Chapter 29
Because there was nothing to pull. No energy to meet halfway. No space for lightness.
How could there be?
When both of them had barely slept.
When their bodies were still recovering from strain.
When their minds carried weight far heavier than casual conversation.
This—
Was the discipline of a Renshou.
You show up.
Always.
No matter how tired. No matter how drained. No matter how much your body resists.
And they had.
Because the night before—Hadn't been rest.
It had been training.
Elder Gu's training.
Wuming had made sure of it.
He had gone to him himself—calm, direct, unquestioning—and shifted everything.
Mornings for the academy.
Evenings for refinement.
And Weiyang—Had no choice but to follow.
Which meant exhaustion wasn't temporary anymore.
It was part of the routine.
Now, standing here beneath the pale sky, both of them bore it quietly.
Without complaint.
Without display.
Weiyang looked between the two sides again.
Him and Yinghua—loud, awake, moving.
Wei Zhi and Wuming—silent, distant, barely holding presence.
He sighed.
"…this team is weird."
Yinghua laughed softly.
"I think it's fun."
Wei Zhi closed her eyes for a brief second.
Just one.
As if stealing a moment of rest.
Wuming exhaled slowly, his breath steady but heavy.
Still—
No sign of Lin Yi.
The forest ahead stood quiet.
Tall.
Watching.
Unmoving.
Waiting.
Just like them.
They moved a little away from the others without saying it out loud.
Not far.
Just enough to breathe.
The tree they chose wasn't ordinary.
It was massive—its trunk thick, roots half-buried like veins pushing through the earth, branches spreading wide as if claiming the sky for itself. Soft pink blossoms rested on every limb, and with each quiet movement of the wind, petals loosened and drifted down in slow, weightless spirals.
Wuming and Wei Zhi sat beneath the vast canopy of the Yinghua tree, its shadow shifting gently with the breeze. It was enormous—its trunk thick and ancient, roots spreading through the ground like veins, branches stretching wide as if they intended to hold the sky itself. Soft pink blossoms covered every limb, and with each passing wind, petals drifted down slowly, weightless, settling around them like quiet snowfall.
They sat almost the same way.
One leg stretched flat against the ground, the other bent upward for support. Their hands rested behind them, palms pressed into the earth, shoulders leaning slightly back against the rough bark. Their heads tilted back, eyes closed, as if they were simply resting.
But neither of them truly was.
After a moment, Wei Zhi spoke, her voice calm and low. "Has your qi recovered?"
"Yeah," Wuming replied without opening his eyes. Then, after a slight pause, "But the soul, it's—"
"Still recovering," she interrupted smoothly. "On the outer surface, it's completely fine. But if you look closer, it's still a bit uneasy." Her tone remained steady, almost clinical. "It was my qi that healed your soul, and there are very few types of qi that are accepted when it comes to healing another person's soul."
Wuming's brow shifted faintly. "Is yours one of them?"
"No," she said. "My qi is universal. I can heal anybody, anytime." There was no pride in her voice—just a simple statement of fact. Then she added more quietly, "But I'm still young. I haven't healed anyone before."
The wind brushed past, carrying a few petals onto her shoulder.
"I've only ever healed my own soul," she continued, eyes still closed. "No one else. So it was a bit difficult to heal you last night… it was my first time."
"I see," Wuming said, his voice calm, his eyes still shut.
Not far from them, Yinghua glanced in their direction. She saw the two sitting quietly, distant from everything else. She didn't interrupt—only smiled faintly before turning back.
Beside her, Weiyang was busy showing off.
"Hey, are you even looking at me?" he said, lifting himself slightly with his wind formation, air swirling beneath him as he hovered for a brief moment. "I'm literally in the air."
Yinghua laughed softly. "Yes, I can see that. It's good… you're really good at it, aren't you?"
Weiyang grinned instantly. "Of course."
The wind formation—a third-rank Zhen—held for a moment before he dropped back down, still smiling.
Under the Yinghua tree, silence settled again.
Then Wuming spoke, this time opening his eyes slowly. "Wait… you mean your soul has been hurt before?"
Wei Zhi hesitated slightly. "…well… eh…"
That was enough.
Wuming turned his head toward her, his eyes opening fully—sharp, cold. Wei Zhi felt it immediately and opened her eyes too, meeting his gaze.
"Eh?" he repeated, his voice lowering. "What do you mean by 'eh'?" His expression hardened. "Don't you know, you fool? A single attack on the soul can kill you. Even one."
Wei Zhi didn't look away. "Soul reapers are made different," she said calmly. "To make our souls stronger… we have to hurt them first. We break them so they become stronger."
Wuming stared at her, unable to accept it. "How the hell did you do it?"
Wei Zhi's gaze shifted slightly, not fully meeting his anymore. "There was a woman… the one who births us—"
"Your mother," Wuming said instantly.
Her expression changed, just slightly. "I'm not allowed to call that woman a mother."
Wuming frowned, irritation flickering through him. "What kind of thing is that? Is it part of your culture not to call the woman who gave you birth your mother?"
"She only gave me birth," Wei Zhi replied flatly. "Nothing else. Maybe taught me too." A faint pause. "Since I was five, she kept hurting my soul… with every type of Zhen. Up to level seven."
Silence fell.
Deep.
Heavy.
The petals continued to fall between them, but neither of them noticed.
Wuming stared at her, completely still, trying to process what he had just heard—and failing to.
Wei Zhi glanced at him. "What?"
He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. "You know that's… abuse, right?"
"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "She's dead."
Something inside him shifted at those words.
And then—
He laughed.
Not lightly. Not normally.
It was sharp, unrestrained—almost manic. It echoed under the tree, clashing against the quiet surroundings, lasting far longer than it should have. Minutes passed, and still it lingered, hollow and strange.
Wei Zhi watched him, her heart beginning to hammer—not because of the sound, but because she was finally hearing her own past from someone else's perspective.
Slowly, his laughter began to fade.
But the thought remained.
She wasn't raised.
She was made.
Wuming's breathing steadied as the last trace of laughter left him. His gaze drifted upward toward the pale sky beyond the blossoms, petals falling softly around him.
She was being abused…
No.
His thoughts corrected themselves.
Not abused.
Refined. Prepared. Broken and rebuilt again and again—not as a child, but as something else entirely.
A weapon.
She was being turned into one… he thought quietly. That woman was preparing her… shaping her into something inhuman.
A faint, hollow breath left him.
And she died before finishing it.
The thought didn't bring relief. It didn't bring sadness either. It simply settled in his mind as a fact—an incomplete process, left halfway.
Wuming's eyes darkened slightly as he finally lowered his gaze.
"…the world is still cruel," he said calmly.
His voice had lost all trace of laughter now. It was flat. Certain.
"No matter how much time changes… or even the world itself…"
A petal landed near his hand. He didn't move it.
"It stays the same."
A brief pause followed, heavy and quiet.
"For everyone."
The wind passed through the Yinghua tree again, stirring the blossoms. Nothing else changed.
Not the tree.
Not the sky.
Not the world.
And certainly not the truth they had just uncovered.
Weiyang and Yinghua both turned toward Wuming at the same time.
The laughter—his laughter—didn't fit.
It wasn't normal. It wasn't light or amused. It was rough, hoarse, almost broken… and yet loud enough to echo under the wide canopy of the Yinghua tree.
Weiyang, who had been mid-air using his wind formation, lost focus for a split second.
He inhaled sharply—
And dropped.
He hit the ground with a dull thud, barely catching himself with his hands before rolling onto his back. "What the—" he muttered, blinking up at the sky before quickly sitting up and looking toward Wuming.
Yinghua hadn't moved.
She stood frozen where she was, her hands rising slowly toward her chest, fingers curling together unconsciously. Her heart felt strange—tight, uneasy. There was something about that laughter… something that didn't belong.
Fear.
A faint one—but real.
Weiyang pushed himself up, brushing dust off his clothes, irritation already rising. "Hey!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the quiet. "You two—what the hell are you talking about, huh?!"
No response.
Wuming didn't even look at him.
His gaze remained on Wei Zhi.
That only made it worse.
Weiyang clenched his fist, stepping forward, frustration clear on his face. "Seriously? You both should be in an asylum, not in a forest. Just look at yourselves—laughing like some mental patients!"
Still—
Nothing.
Wuming didn't reply. His eyes stayed fixed on Wei Zhi, unreadable now, as if Weiyang's words hadn't even reached him.
Weiyang's jaw tightened.
He felt it—that irritation, that annoyance at being completely ignored.
Little did he know—
That Wei Zhi had just revealed something that wasn't normal.
Something that had shifted Wuming entirely.
Yinghua stepped forward slowly, her gaze still on Wuming. Her hands remained close to her chest, fingers lightly clasped together as if holding herself steady.
"…Wuming…" she murmured softly, concern clear in her voice.
But Wuming spoke before anything else could be said.
"So," he said calmly, his voice now steady, "after that woman died… you were sold by your family?"
Wei Zhi's expression shifted slightly.
"…you don't need to know about that," she replied.
Wuming didn't push.
Didn't question further.
He simply smiled faintly and looked away, his gaze drifting toward the falling blossoms. "When a flower doesn't bloom," he said quietly, "you fix the environment—not the flower."
Wei Zhi watched him for a second.
"It seems someone's angry."
"I'm not angry."
"You're angry for the world."
Wuming let out a small breath. "I might be wrong."
Wei Zhi's lips curved slightly. "It seems it's not what you expected. Less cruel, more lovely… eh?"
Wuming shook his head faintly. "People don't change. No matter what. They stay the same. Because they don't care about others—and others don't care about them. It's an endless loop. Thinking the world will change is just… foolish."
Wei Zhi replied calmly, "If you want to change the world around you, you first change what's within you."
"Shut up," Wuming said.
And for a brief moment—
She laughed.
Soft.
Clear.
Her voice carried like a melody under the tree, light and completely different from before.
Weiyang froze again.
This time—not from shock.
But from disbelief.
It was the first time he had ever seen her like that.
That… open.
That human.
Yinghua blinked, then smiled gently. "They must be having fun," she said, grabbing Weiyang's hand before he could react. "Come on."
She pulled him along, running lightly toward them.
They reached the tree and dropped down beside them, the atmosphere shifting instantly.
"We want to know too!" Yinghua said, leaning forward slightly, eyes bright with curiosity.
Weiyang crossed his arms, still annoyed but trying to act normal. "Yeah, seriously. First he laughs like a maniac… then she laughs like an angel? What's going on?"
Wei Zhi waved it off lightly. "It's nothing, Yinghua."
Yinghua pouted immediately. "Tell me, tell me."
"I was just laughing at what Wuming said," Wei Zhi replied smoothly. "We were having a small argument."
"We weren't," Wuming added flatly, looking away.
Yinghua blinked. "So there's nothing for us to know? Why are you both so secretive? We're teammates, you know."
"I don't acknowledge you," Wuming said without looking at her.
The words landed.
End of 29