A Song For The Ages

A few days passed since the Red Lotus Mercenaries had claimed White Sand City. The coastal settlement, once an independent trade hub governed by local nobility, had now become a symbol. Not of glory or prosperity, but of the ruthless efficiency and quiet terror that the mercenaries were swiftly gaining a name for.

Despite the bloodshed and shock of the takeover, the citizens of the city, long used to the rise and fall of warlords, accepted their new rulers with little resistance. Life in the Warring States region was tumultuous; surviving meant adapting. As long as they had food, work, and roofs over their heads, they could endure nearly anything.

The inner disciples, having completed their primary goal of conquest and announcement, showed little interest in the daily administration. For them, White Sand City was merely a first mark on a larger canvas. It wasn't about control, but influence. And so, the reins of the city were handed to a few local administrators who had proven quick to swear allegiance. In exchange for loyalty, they were given permission to continue their duties, keeping the bureaucracy intact.

Feiyin watched all of this from the shadows.

While many disciples swaggered through the streets in their new black robes, enjoying their elevated status, Feiyin quietly walked the city. He passed through markets where merchants cautiously reopened stalls, homes where quiet sobs whispered behind closed doors, and alleys where the scent of blood still lingered.

To most, he was just another cultivator. But through his oscillation sense, he saw more than most. Fear, weariness, and hollow resignation vibrated faintly in the air, like a sorrowful hum beneath the bustling surface.

In one home, an elderly man coughed violently, his spiritual presence flickering like a candle in the wind. Feiyin subtly slipped a recovery pill wrapped in cloth into a windowsill basket.

In another, a child whimpered, holding the hand of a feverish sibling. Again, a pill was delivered silently.

He left no names, no trace. But those whom he helped would not forget.

Each step he took through the city seemed to echo a memory. The sight of a mother gently rocking her baby on a stoop brought a flash of his own mother's face, tired but always smiling, her hands soft and warm.

The old man who groaned through his illness reminded him of his father, patient and steady even as sickness began to take hold of him. The scent of porridge drifting from a window made his throat tighten.

They had lived simply. They had loved him deeply. And they were gone.

In moments like this, Feiyin felt the weight of their absence like a silent hand on his back, pushing him forward and grounding him in purpose.

These people, strangers, deserved better. And if he couldn't protect them all, then he would at least do what little he could.

Yet not all disciples were content with leaving the people alone.

As Feiyin walked through the city, he caught snippets of conversation between two merchants lingering near a fruit stall. Their voices were low, but the words "red-light district" and "trouble" were clear enough.

Curious, Feiyin approached them, a polite smile on his lips. "Excuse me, sirs. I couldn't help but overhear. Something happened in the red-light district?"

The merchants, middle-aged and weathered by years of trade, glanced at each other. Sensing no threat from the young cultivator, one of them leaned closer.

"Aye, young master," he said in a hushed tone. "Some of the new... rulers caused a mess at the Jade Pavilion. Word is they didn't just break the rules, they completely disregarded them."

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The other merchant nodded vigorously. "Best keep away from there for a while, lest you get caught up in it."

Feiyin gave a slight bow of thanks, his expression calm, though his heart grew heavy. "Thank you for the warning. Stay safe."

With that, he turned toward the red-light district, a serious glint entering his eyes as he set off.

As Feiyin stepped into the district, even if it was his first time, there was no doubt that he was in the right place, as he was assaulted by a mixture of cloying perfume, powdered makeup, and the humid scent of too many bodies pressed together.

The buildings here were adorned with bright red lanterns, intricate silk banners, and a deceptive air of merriment. The laughter of courtesans mixed with the drunken boasts of vigorous men, a surreal contrast to the death he had witnessed mere days ago.

Despite himself, Feiyin flushed as several scantily clad women called out to him, waving silk scarves and beckoning with promises.

"Come inside, little brother. You look like you could use a good time."

"This big sister will make you feel really good," one courtesan called out with a wink.

Another nearby courtesan burst into laughter, pointing teasingly at her. "You? Look at how handsome he is! Only I can give him a proper good time!"

He offered nervous smiles and kept moving, Baiyu's absence a sorely missed deterrent.

Deeper into the district, the atmosphere shifted. The laughter faded, replaced by murmurs and an oppressive silence. A luxurious brothel loomed ahead, its facade more grand than the rest, lit by glowing lotus-shaped lanterns. Yet, beneath its glamor, Feiyin's senses caught it, the metallic tang of blood.

The doors creaked open.

Out walked Ruan Lianhua, second-class disciple of the Saint Blood Branch, known for her icy detachment and surgical cruelty. Her dark robes were stained with fresh red, and in each of her hands, she held the severed head of a man, blood dripping from their still expressions of disbelief.

Feiyin froze.

The oscillation of her aura was terrifying. It wasn't rage or pleasure. It was pure bloodlust, undiluted by other emotions.

She saw him, noticing the confusion in his eyes about the heads she was carrying.

"They broke the rules," she said, her voice like winter wind over a grave. "So they had to die."

Feiyin frowned slightly, piecing things together. Their faces were familiar, he'd seen them hanging around Feng Liu before. Judging by their appearance, they must have been from the Joyful Union Branch.

In a mission like this, where secrecy and new identities were crucial, leaking their origins as Saint Spirit Sect disciples would be disastrous. Most likely, these two had gotten drunk or arrogant, letting it slip.

Ruan Lianhua gave no further explanation. Without another word, she vanished, leaping effortlessly onto a nearby rooftop, her grisly trophies still in hand.

Feiyin stood alone for a long moment, processing.

If she was such a stickler to rules, then she could very well become an obstacle to his future plans, especially when it came to his revenge against Feng Liu. However, a thought crossed his mind, if used properly, her unwavering adherence to discipline could also be a powerful weapon. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could become a tool to help bring down his true enemy.

Later, Feiyin returned to the city center where a compound had been assigned to the alchemists. There, he donned his robe and began preparing ingredients for the orders requested of him.

The duties assigned to the alchemists were simple, but essential. Feiyin's primary tasks were twofold: first, to refine a steady supply of healing and cultivation-enhancing pills using the local medicinal resources; second, to oversee and repair the damaged weapons and basic artifacts used by the other disciples in battle.

Sitting cross-legged in the alchemist compound, Feiyin set up his cauldron, arranging rows of neatly sorted herbs and ores around him. His oscillation sense reached into each ingredient, feeling their essence, the gentle cooling properties of Snowleaf Root, the invigorating pulse of Flamegrass, the sturdy density of Ironwood Resin. Each material had to be purified, refined, and balanced.

As the essence qi in his body circulated, he carefully guided each process. The flames beneath his cauldron danced at his will, precise and even, as ingredients liquefied and fused.

Hours passed. A handful of healing pills, bright and fragrant, were set aside in a jade bottle. Then cultivation pills, their inner glow a testament to their potency. Finally, he worked on weapons: reforging bent swords, repairing chipped spears, and restoring talisman artifacts with delicate essence threading.

It was tedious, repetitive work. But Feiyin poured his heart into every piece, as he used the time to clear his head and plan ahead.