Chapter 39
He looked at them for a moment longer, then straightened slightly, his expression returning to its usual cold neutrality.
What a weird girl, he thought.
And yet—
He did not deny it.
Behind them—
Weiyang screamed again as the snake struck him once more, his voice cutting sharply through the forest before he suddenly surged forward, forcing himself ahead with a grin that didn't quite hide the strain beneath it.
"Hey!" he called out, now running beside them, his expression bright despite everything. "Take a hit for me this time, will you?"
He laughed—
Then sprinted ahead again.
As if pain were something to outrun.
Wuming glanced at Yinghua again, something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Yinghua," he said, almost reluctantly, "can you take a hit for me?"
She didn't even hesitate.
"Of course!"
The answer came too quickly—too easily.
And she smiled.
Blushed, even.
At the fact that he had asked.
Her pace slowed slightly, deliberately, positioning herself where the strike would land—while he struggled forward, trying to maintain speed despite the growing strain in his chest.
Above them, the snake moved again, its body coiling with quiet intent.
Lin Yi turned another page.
"Until the sun sets," he said calmly, almost as if reciting something trivial, "you will continue."
A pause.
"Nonstop."
His voice carried effortlessly.
Unquestionable.
Unavoidable.
A groan escaped all four of them—
Even the snake let out a low, almost irritated hiss, as if it too had grown tired of the endless pursuit.
And yet—
They did not stop.
Because by now, stopping was no longer an option.
It was a surrender none of them were willing to accept.
Wuming glanced back only once, a brief, calculated turn of the head, just enough to take in the detail—Yinghua's hand, split open along the palm, blood trailing down her fingers and slipping off with each stride, staining the wood she still held above her. He saw it clearly. Understood it instantly. And then—dismissed it. There was no flicker of guilt, no hesitation in his step. She had chosen that position. She had said of course without pause. In his mind, choice erased obligation; a person who stepped forward willingly owned the consequence that followed. Sympathy was inefficient, remorse even more so—both things that dulled judgment and slowed movement.
If she bled, it was because she accepted the strike meant for him. If he kept running, it was because he refused to fall behind. That was the only logic that mattered. His gaze returned forward, cold and steady, as if what he had seen was nothing more than a passing detail, already irrelevant the moment it was understood.
The snake struck again.
Its tongue lashed out with a wet, merciless snap, landing across Yinghua's back, then again—again—each strike deliberate, as though the forest itself had chosen her as the point of testing. Her body jolted with every impact, her already trembling arms shaking harder, her bleeding hand tightening instinctively around the log despite the pain that must have burned through her nerves.
Ahead of her, Wuming did not turn this time.
Not immediately.
Lin Yi saw everything.
From above, seated upon the serpent as though upon a throne carved from indifference, his silver eyes observed not just movement—but intention. What unfolded beneath him was no longer mere training. It was fracture. A slow, quiet unraveling of what should have been unity.
This was meant to be teamwork.
A team.
And yet—
He saw Wuming move again.
Subtle.
Calculated.
He shifted forward, closing distance with Weiyang, his steps quiet despite exhaustion. Leaning just enough, he whispered something—low, precise, meant only for one pair of ears.
Weiyang blinked.
Then his entire expression lit up.
As if Wuming had just promised him something absurdly delightful—like buying him magazines he secretly enjoyed. The kind Lin Yi had once caught him reading: a thick romance series, over a thousand pages long, the boy completely immersed in it as if the world beyond it did not exist.
Weiyang hummed lightly, almost cheerfully.
And nodded.
Then—
He moved.
His pace shifted, feet pushing harder against the ground as he surged forward, closing in on Wei Zhi.
Behind them, Yinghua took another hit.
Wuming saw it.
This time, he did look.
But his eyes—
Remained unchanged.
Cold.
Detached.
Observing, not feeling.
Lin Yi's gaze lingered on him, thoughtful, sharper now. What did you go through… in that nest of Xuan servants… to become like this at such an age? There was no answer—only the evidence before him. A boy who measured pain as data. Who treated sacrifice as transaction. Who moved forward without the burden of emotional consequence.
He sighed.
Then, without a word—
Placed his hand on the snake's head.
The massive creature stilled instantly, its movements halting as if the forest itself had commanded silence.
But the damage had been done.
Yinghua had taken five strikes by now.
Five.
For Wuming.
Behind, Wei Zhi turned her head slightly, her sharp gaze cutting through the space between them.
Wuming met it.
Just for a moment.
And in that single glance—
Something passed.
Understanding.
Unspoken.
Both of them—
Smiled.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
But with something darker. Sharper. A shared edge of thought that needed no explanation.
Above them, Lin Yi closed his book.
Slowly.
"…Seriously," he muttered under his breath, the faintest trace of disbelief slipping through his otherwise composed tone. "What a team."
The book rested in his hand, finally shut.
"This is the first time…" he continued quietly, almost to himself, "someone has made me close it."
His silver eyes flickered downward again.
"I have never closed it—not even when I had only a few hours to assassinate my targets during a mission."
A pause.
"And these two…"
Another glance at Wuming and Wei Zhi.
"…are making me do it in mere days."
There was no anger in his voice.
Only a strange, quiet acknowledgment.
"…by being completely harmless."
Below—
The formation shifted.
Wei Zhi slowed.
Just enough.
She stepped back, deliberately placing herself where the next strike would fall.
And it did.
The snake, though stilled, still carried the weight of its earlier momentum in her mind—she positioned herself as if expecting it, as if already accepting it.
Then she looked behind.
At Yinghua.
At her trembling arms.
At the blood slipping steadily from her hand.
Without hesitation—
Wei Zhi reached out.
Grabbed her.
Pulled her forward.
"Run in front of me," she said, her voice calm, firm, leaving no room for argument. "For a while."
Yinghua stumbled slightly at the sudden shift, her body nearly giving out before catching itself again.
But now—
She was in front.
And for the first time in a long while—
Not the one being struck.
They kept running, the rhythm of their steps now less chaotic, less fractured than before, though still heavy with exhaustion. The forest had begun to change with the slow descent of evening; light filtered softer through the trees, shadows lengthening like silent witnesses to their persistence. Breath still burned, muscles still screamed—but something else had entered the space between them now. Not ease. Not comfort. Something quieter. Something structured.
After a while, Wuming moved closer to Yinghua, his pace steady despite the strain that still coiled through his chest. He spoke without looking at her, his voice low and direct. "Go. Switch up with Weiyang."
Yinghua turned her head slightly, surprised, her expression softening for just a moment despite everything. "Thank you—"
"I didn't do anything," he cut in flatly, as if the very idea of gratitude was unnecessary, almost inefficient.
Before she could respond, Weiyang's voice burst out from ahead, loud and dramatic as ever. "Oi! Enough with all three of you! I didn't do anything either—river benevolent chicks, shut up!"
Lin Yi blinked once—
Then laughed.
Not loudly, but genuinely.
The kind of laughter that slipped out before being stopped, as if something in Weiyang's ridiculous phrasing had struck a memory. Elder Gu… he thought faintly. Did he say something like that to him before? The thought amused him more than it should have.
And so he laughed again.
Below, all four of them groaned in unison, glaring upward.
"Of course you'd laugh!" Weiyang snapped, panting. "You're not the one running!"
"Not sweating!"
"Not getting hit!"
"Not smelling like that thing!"
"And on top of that—you're sitting on a snake!"
"Come down and try it, Shi Fu!"
Wei Zhi added dryly, "We'll 'respectfully' knock you down."
Lin Yi only smiled faintly, unbothered.
Below, the formation shifted again.
Wei Zhi moved forward, placing herself where the next strike would fall—but this time, she didn't rotate out immediately. She held her pace, conserving energy, maintaining stability rather than constantly exchanging.
Lin Yi noticed.
"Move ahead, Wei Zhi," he called. "Why are you maintaining speed?"
She didn't even look up. "Because it's not like you'll stop! Let us do teamwork peacefully."
Yinghua, breath uneven, added with a faint groan, "Yes… please…"
Wei Zhi exhaled sharply but didn't argue further.
Behind them, Wuming remained in third position, his breathing controlled but heavy, his movements precise within limitation. He did not push beyond that position anymore. He had calculated it.
Evening crept closer.
The air cooled slightly, though their bodies still burned.
Weiyang groaned again, shaking his arm slightly as if trying to rid himself of the lingering slime. "Wei Zhi! Come forward!"
"No," she shot back. "I can handle it!"
"Don't be a fool," he replied, more serious now. "You've done enough."
Yinghua remained in front.
Weiyang behind her.
Wuming third.
Wei Zhi last.
A pattern.
A system.
"We've already rotated enough," Weiyang continued, breath rough but voice determined. "We've been taking hits for him since he's injured—it's going to be evening soon. We've managed it this far. Don't break it now."
Lin Yi's eyes sharpened slightly.
He looked at them—really looked this time.
"Wait…" he murmured. "You actually managed to do this?"
Weiyang grinned, despite everything. "All thanks to our shared teamwork, Shi Fu!"
Wuming spoke again, cutting through the moment. "Wei Zhi. Exchange position."
"If I move now," she replied, "you'll get hit. And there's no way I'm letting that happen."
"That's an order," Wuming said, tone cold, leaving no space for argument. "Come forward."
"I can take her place," Yinghua added quickly.
"No," Weiyang snapped. "You stay in front."
Wei Zhi looked at both of them—
At Weiyang.
At Wuming.
Both watching her.
Waiting.
"…Seriously?" she muttered under her breath.
Then—
They moved.
Wuming and Weiyang shifted the log slightly, adjusting its weight onto their other shoulders, freeing one hand each. Weiyang extended his right hand forward, palm open, while Wuming spoke, voice calm even through strain.
"Concentrate your Qi. Stabilize it. Balance the log on your head for support. We'll pull you forward."
She hesitated only for a second.
Then did it.
Her Qi steadied just enough, the log balanced briefly as her hands adjusted—
And they grabbed her.
Pulled.
One smooth motion.
She moved forward.
Weiyang instantly switched position behind her, taking the place where the next strike would land without hesitation.
Above them, Lin Yi watched.
And this time—
He smiled.
A real one.
"…So this is what I wanted from this team," he murmured quietly. "And I got it this easily… why was I even bothering?"
Below—
Weiyang and Wuming had already started arguing.
"I carried this whole thing," Weiyang said between breaths.
"You're a pawn," Wuming replied flatly.
"What did you just call me?!"
Lin Yi sighed, shaking his head slightly. "…No. I was wrong."
And yet—
His gaze lingered on Wuming.
Because beneath the argument, beneath the noise, beneath the chaos—
There had been structure.
A plan.
Lin Yi did not interrupt them this time. He watched.
Carefully.
Because what had formed below him was no longer chaos—it was pattern.
At first glance, it looked messy. No clear leader, no spoken commands, just four exhausted bodies running under pressure, arguing, shifting, complaining. But beneath that surface—there was design. And that design… did not come from noise.
End of 39