Chapter 63: Chapter 63: The Thread Reaper

CHAPTER 63

The Thread Reaper

RUAN YANJUN

The doors creaked open, a sound that sent tension rippling through the air. My eyes darted to the movement, and there he stood—Xie Lianyu, the Weaver of Shadows, his dark crimson eyes gleaming with malicious delight. In front of him, bound at the wrists and ankles with strands of shimmering black hair, was Luo Fan.

Xie Lianyu’s claws hovered dangerously close to Luo Fan’s throat, sharp as razors, and his smile twisted into something both mocking and predatory. He traced one claw lightly along Luo Fan’s cheek, a slow, deliberate movement that made my blood boil.

“Sect Leader Ruan,” he said, his voice smooth and oily, the kind of tone that made one’s skin crawl. “Would you care to make a trade?”

I squinted, forcing myself to remain calm. I couldn’t let my rage show—not yet. As much as I wanted to rip him apart for daring to touch my A-Fan, I knew this monster thrived on provoking his prey.

“You’re bold to show yourself again, Xie Lianyu,” I replied, my tone deceptively cool.

His smile widened, his claws pressing slightly closer to Luo Fan’s throat, just enough to draw a faint line of red.

Luo Fan winced but didn’t cry out. His eyes, locked with mine, radiated a quiet resolve.

“Bold?” Xie Lianyu purred, “I’d call it determined. Or perhaps... opportunistic.” He dragged a claw down Luo Fan’s jawline again, this time pausing just above his collarbone. “Such beauty is rare, isn’t it, Sect Leader Ruan? How much is it worth to you? A strand of your hair? Perhaps... half?”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Of course, it was my hair he sought. It wasn’t the first time he had tried to claim it. For years, my hair—both the object of his twisted admiration and what he believed to hold the essence of my cultivation—had consumed his obsession. He was convinced it contained the key to a power he could never achieve on his own.

“I’ve already given you my answer once before,” I said, my voice low and edged with warning. “You didn’t like how that ended, did you?”

His laugh was soft, almost musical. “Oh, I remember well. The lake was quite cold, but here I stand, none the worse for wear. Now... shall we negotiate?” His claws pressed deeper into Luo Fan’s skin, a bead of blood rolling down his neck.

Luo Fan met my gaze, his expression calm, almost calculating. He wasn’t afraid. That steadiness in his eyes only made my chest tighten more.

“One strand,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm despite the storm of anger raging within me. I couldn’t let Xie Lianyu see just how precious Luo Fan truly was to me.

Xie Lianyu tilted his head, feigning disappointment. “One strand? Sect Leader, you insult me. Half your hair—or I take all of his.”

I smirked, letting the faintest trace of mockery enter my tone. “Half my hair? With that much, you’d breach the eighth level in no time. My hair is far more precious than you’re worth. The trade isn’t fair.”

For a moment, his smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. He wasn’t stupid. He suspected I was playing a trick on him. His hand moved abruptly, his claw slicing a shallow line across Luo Fan’s throat.

Blood trickled from the cut, and I felt my control slipping. My fingers itched to crush Xie Lianyu’s skull, but I forced myself to hold back. Luo Fan’s gaze flicked to me again—not pleading, but deliberate. He had a plan.

Suddenly, with a sharp motion, Luo Fan twisted his hands, and the hair binding his wrists fell away. Before Xie Lianyu could react, Luo Fan drove his elbow hard into his stomach. Xie Lianyu staggered back, snarling, but quickly recovered, his claws flashing as he lunged at Luo Fan.

Luo Fan ducked low, his movements fluid despite the ropes of hair binding his feet. Using his momentum, he twisted sharply, summoning his qi to snap the binding strands. Freed, he spun and lashed out with a precise kick, catching Xie Lianyu’s shin. The Thread Reaper stumbled but recovered swiftly, his hair twisting into vicious whips that lashed out with deadly speed, forcing Luo Fan to evade again and again.

I stood frozen, my heart hammering as I watched. A-Fan was fighting valiantly, his skill undeniable, but Xie Lianyu was relentless. It was only a matter of time before—

A whip of hair coiled around Luo Fan’s ankle, yanking him off balance. He hit the ground hard as Xie Lianyu surged forward, claws gleaming and poised to strike his chest.

I moved before I even thought about it. In an instant, I was there, catching Xie Lianyu’s wrist mid-strike. The force of my grip stopped him cold.

“Enough,” I growled, my voice low and sharp with menace.

With a swift motion, I hauled Luo Fan to his feet and eased him behind me, shielding him from further harm. My qi surged, crackling in the air around us like a storm about to break as I faced the Weaver of Shadows head-on.

“This ends now.”

The decision to fight again grated on me. Facing someone as vile as Xie Lianyu wasn’t the problem. It was the distraction I couldn't afford. Luo Fan needed me, and lingering here only invited more danger. But with Luo Fan injured and unable to defend himself, I had no choice.

Xie Lianyu sneered, his crimson eyes alight with a twisted glee. His hair shifted unnaturally, whipping around him like living snakes. Each strand shimmered with stolen spiritual essence, the grotesque source of his power.

“Still playing the untouchable hero, Sect Leader Ruan?” he taunted, his voice a poisonous silk. “Let’s see how long your pride lasts.”

“You talk too much,” I replied, my tone clipped.

With a surge of qi, I materialized a blade from thin air—a glimmering construct forged of pure metallic energy, as sharp as any crafted steel. Xie Lianyu’s sneer faltered for a fraction of a second, but he lunged anyway, his hair snaking forward in a net meant to ensnare me.

I met his attack head-on. My blade sliced through the strands with a satisfying hiss, cutting them as cleanly as paper. The severed hair fell to the ground, writhing briefly before disintegrating into black ash. Xie Lianyu growled, pulling back and weaving new threads with desperate speed.

“You think this will stop me?” he snarled, lashing out with clawed strikes that I dodged with ease.

I smirked, countering with a swift series of slashes that severed more of his cursed hair. The more I cut, the weaker he became. His movements slowed, and his attacks lost their precision.

Finally, I struck a decisive blow. My blade arced through the air, cleaving through the thick braid of hair coiled at the back of his head. Xie Lianyu let out a guttural scream, collapsing to the ground as his strength drained away. His crimson eyes dimmed, and his breathing grew ragged.

Weakened, he sat hunched on the floor, clutching at the remnants of his once-glorious mane. "No... my power..." he gasped.

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I scanned the area. Wang Bei had vanished, predictably fleeing the moment the tide turned.

But my work wasn’t done.

“Come with me,” I ordered Luo Fan, pulling him along as I stepped into the mansion’s shadowy interior. The walls were draped with macabre curtains of hair, their lengths swaying like sinister vines. The room reeked of decay, the essence of countless lives drained and woven into this grotesque lair.

Xie Lianyu’s anguished cries echoed behind me as I summoned a wave of fire. The flames roared to life, racing across the walls and igniting the hanging strands. Smoke filled the air as the cursed hair burned, releasing its trapped energy in bursts of light.

“No!” Xie Lianyu screamed, dragging himself toward the inferno. “You can’t—this is all I have!”

“Then you have nothing,” I said coldly, watching as the flames consumed his sanctuary.

Defeated, he collapsed to the floor, his screams turning to sobs. “I’ll kill you for this, Ruan Yanjun... I’ll kill you!”

I smirked, unbothered by his threats. With a swift motion, I scooped Luo Fan into my arms and leapt out of the burning mansion. The cool night air greeted us as the structure behind us crumbled into a smoldering ruin.

“Put me down,” Luo Fan demanded, his tone indignant even as he flushed a brilliant shade of red.

Ignoring him, I tightened my hold and leapt toward the spot where I had left the horse earlier. “Just enjoy the romantic ride, A-Fan,” I teased, enjoying the way his expression twisted in both embarrassment and exasperation.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but he didn’t struggle further.

Once we reached the horse, I felt it—a familiar, unwelcome churning deep within me. The ancient demonic core stirred, its energy rising like a black tide. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I blacked out.

When I came to, I was on my knees, leaning heavily against Luo Fan. He was holding me up, his hands firm on my shoulders.

“Lord Ruan, tell me what’s happening?” he asked, his voice low with concern.

I shook my head, willing the core’s influence to subside. “It’s nothing,” I said, brushing him off as I forced myself to stand.

He didn’t press further, though his worry was written plainly on his face. That alone made me smile.

“I’ll take the reins,” he said, guiding me toward the horse.

He mounted the horse first, his movements fluid and practiced, like someone born to the saddle. When he turned to help me up, his expression softened. “Come,” he urged, his tone gentle now.

With a quiet sigh, I accepted his hand. As I swung myself up, I allowed my weight to lean against him, letting my arms rest naturally around his waist. He stilled for a moment, likely unprepared for the intimacy of the position.

“You’re warmer than I expected,” I said, my voice low and teasing, close enough for him to hear over the stillness of the night.

“Lord Ruan, stop saying such things,” he muttered, his ears visibly red even in the moonlight.

I smirked. His flustered state was a rare delight, and I couldn’t resist leaning in just a little closer, letting my chest press against his back. His frame was slight but firm, his heartbeat steady beneath my touch.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, trying to sound unaffected, though his voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.

“Very,” I murmured. “I could stay like this all night.”

He stiffened, his hands tightening on the reins. “You shouldn’t push yourself, Lord Ruan. Rest if you must.”

“Oh, I’m resting just fine,” I replied, my lips brushing against his shoulder as I spoke. His scent, clean and faintly herbal, was intoxicating, and I let myself sink into it, savoring the rare closeness.

Luo Fan urged the horse forward, his movements deliberate, as though focusing on the ride could distract him from my presence pressed so intimately against him.

As the horse galloped through the quiet forest, the moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled silver patterns over the path. The rhythm of the ride, the gentle sway of the horse beneath us, felt almost hypnotic.

“Are you alright?” he asked suddenly, his voice soft, his concern genuine. He turned his head slightly, enough for me to catch the faintest glimpse of his profile.

The truth was, my strength was already returning. But something about this moment, about him, made me want to linger. “I’ll survive,” I replied, letting my voice carry a touch of weariness.

“Hold tighter,” he instructed, a little too quickly, as if to end the conversation.

“As you wish,” I whispered, tightening my arms around his waist. His sharp intake of breath didn’t escape me, and it brought a slow, satisfied smile to my lips.

The ride continued, the silence between us broken only by the steady thrum of hooves and the occasional rustle of leaves. Luo Fan remained focused ahead, his back stiff against my chest. But the tension only made the moment sweeter, each subtle shift of his body a reminder of how close we were.

The forest began to thin, the city lights faintly visible in the distance. As much as I cherished the ride, I knew it wouldn’t last much longer. Still, I allowed myself one final indulgence, resting my head lightly against his shoulder and closing my eyes.

For now, I could pretend, if only for a moment, that this was something more than duty—a fleeting illusion of peace, warmth, and connection that I would carry long after the night ended.

*****

LUO FAN

The ride back to the inn had been far more exhausting than I expected—not physically, but emotionally. Ruan Yanjun had clung to me so tightly during the ride, leaning into me with such unrelenting intimacy, that I felt as though I’d been under siege the entire time. Now, back in the relative peace of our room, I sought solace in a bath, hoping to wash away not just the dust and grime but also the lingering heat of his proximity.

He had decided to bathe in the hot spring behind the inn—a place better suited to his grandeur, I thought bitterly. He had even invited me, with that sly smile of his, but I refused outright. There was no way I would willingly walk into another one of his schemes. His earlier "weakness" during the ride had felt contrived, a ploy to force that closeness upon me. The moment we arrived, he’d miraculously regained his strength. It was infuriating how easily he played me.

Sinking into the warm water, I allowed myself a moment of respite. The tub was fragrant with herbs I had added, their scent calming and grounding. I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. Finally, I thought, some peace.

The door creaked open.

My eyes snapped wide, and I instinctively submerged myself deeper into the water, the herbal mixture swirling protectively around me. “You’ve returned too soon,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible despite the flush creeping up my neck.

“I don’t spend too much time bathing,” came Ruan Yanjun’s voice from behind the folding screen I’d set up earlier. His calm, unhurried tone carried an edge of mischief that put me instantly on guard.

I gritted my teeth. “If you don’t mind, could you give me some time to dress?”

"Go ahead," he replied casually.

"I mean… I need some privacy."

He chuckled, a sound that sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "A-Fan, why so shy? We’re both men. What’s the harm?"

Both men? I thought bitterly. How could he say that when he treated me like some delicate maiden, his intentions so blatantly unrestrained?

Before I could reply, he stepped around the screen, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at me.

"Lord Ruan!" I gasped, my hands instinctively splashing the water to cover more of myself, though the herbs already obscured much. My face burned with humiliation.

He smiled, unrepentant, his eyes trailing over my exposed shoulders and collarbone. His gaze wasn’t lecherous but intense, as if memorizing every detail. "Not bad," he said, his voice maddeningly calm. "But you’re too thin. You should eat more."

"Lord Ruan," I began carefully, swallowing my irritation and mortification, "you must be hungry. The innkeeper offered to prepare dinner. Perhaps you could arrange for it to be brought up while I… finish here?"

His smile turned rueful, as though disappointed by my attempt to push him away. "Always so practical, my A-Fan," he mused. Then, as if to remind me he wouldn’t leave without making a mark, he said, "The alchemist has given the flower a name—Pale Revenant. Fitting, don’t you think?"

I seized on the change of topic, desperate to redirect him. "What’s so special about it?"

"It’s a revival flower," he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "The old man we stole it from was likely trying to bring someone back from the dead."

My breath caught. Revival—a dark, forbidden magic that always ended in tragedy. The light cores and dark cores rarely agreed on anything, but both condemned revival as an abomination.

"And its use for the living?" I asked hesitantly.

"It strengthens a dark core," he replied simply. "Like the flower itself, you bloom beautifully outwardly, but inside, it nourishes darkness."

My stomach churned at the thought. To him, it was an advantage, but for me, someone whose dark core was already a fragile, unwanted part of my existence, it was a temptation I couldn’t afford.

He caught my hesitation, his smile fading into something softer. "A-Fan," he said quietly, "your dark core is weak. It needs nourishment, or it will be overshadowed by your light core. It’s dangerous to let them remain imbalanced."

I nodded quickly, hoping to end the conversation. "I understand. Leave it on the table, and I’ll take it later."

His gaze lingered on me, doubt flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I insisted, forcing a smile. "Just give me some privacy first."

He relented, albeit reluctantly, and turned to leave. At the door, he paused. "The Dual Bloom elixir will take time to refine. We’ll retrieve it before heading to the capital." Then, with one last searching glance, he left.

The moment the door closed, I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders slumping. He was relentless, always probing, always testing.

Rising from the water, I dried myself quickly and dressed, my eyes flicking back to the vial on the table.

It shimmered in the light, deceptively harmless, almost as if mocking my resolve.

I picked it up, holding it between my fingers as I tilted it toward the light. For a fleeting moment, the temptation crept in—what would it feel like to take it? To experience that elusive balance and strength he had so confidently promised?

But the thought curdled almost as soon as it formed.

I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t.

With a steady hand, I slipped the vial into my belongings, burying it beneath layers of cloth. Let him believe I’d given in, that I’d taken the path he so desperately wanted me to tread.