A Song For The Ages

Feiyin rose slowly from the cavern floor, the soft hum of metal-infused essence qi still coiling in his meridians. The subtle tension in the air was gone. His body felt different now, each step more grounded, each breath steadier. He rolled a shoulder as he walked, and a faint click traveled down his spine, like the settling of plates in perfect alignment.

His bones, now reinforced with the metal essence he'd infused, carried a tempered density. Not heavy. Not cumbersome. Simply solid. His ribs expanded fully with no resistance. His legs moved with coiled strength. Even the small bones in his hands flexed like honed blades.

He strode to where the Rat King sat watching, the massive beast resting against the ore pillar like a slumbering guardian. As Feiyin approached, metal essence rippling faintly around him, the Rat King's eyes sharpened.

It felt it.

The difference.

The weight of Feiyin's presence was no longer something it could match. Not even close. The Rat King hunched slightly, lowering its head without fully realizing it had done so. A tier-three beast, instinctually bowing to something it didn't understand, but respected all the same.

Feiyin gave a small, crooked smile. Then, with deliberate effort, he suppressed his cultivation again, dialing his body's oscillation pattern back to the Qi Flow phase. It took a bit more control now. His new essence qi strength naturally resonated beyond that point, but with practice and discipline, he pushed it down.

Then he reached for his guqin and played a short, simple phrase. Just a few notes, carried by the same musical intent that had guided him thus far. The melody floated gently to the Rat King, carrying meaning.

You've been kind, so I offer you this advice. Leave this place. Seek a deeper mine. Soon, this one will no longer be safe.

The Rat King growled low in its throat, ears twitching. Its eyes narrowed, reluctant.

Feiyin chuckled. "Stubborn beast." He reached into his pouch and drew out another pill, smaller than the last but potent, designed for stamina recovery and tissue reinforcement in high-tier beasts.

He rolled it along the ground with a gentle flick. It came to rest before the Rat King's forepaw.

"This one's sweeter. Think of it as thanks."

The Rat King gave a low chuff and snatched the pill. As it swallowed, its eyes softened, glowing with understanding.

Feiyin gave a nod and turned, Baiyu slithering from his pack and coiling up along his shoulders. Her crystalline white scales shimmered subtly with a faint gold edge, responding to the deep metal essence still lingering in the chamber.

Together, they walked.

The mine was quiet. The smaller rats didn't stir.

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It was only when Feiyin reached the upper tunnels, nearing the exit, that something prickled at the back of his senses. A presence. Not hostile. Not yet.

He stopped.

Then he turned slightly, voice calm.

"Ruan Lianhua," he said. "I wonder why you followed me here."

From the shadows of the side tunnel, she emerged.

Black hair. Blood-red eyes. Silent steps. Ruan Lianhua walked with the grace of a predator, effortless, yet full of potential violence. She was dressed in the red lotus robes, marked with golden threads that shimmered faintly. Her eyes glowed faintly, nostrils flaring.

"I smelled his blood on you," she said quietly. "Feng Liu."

Feiyin's brow arched. "That's an accusation without proof."

"You left no visible trace," she said. "But blood cannot be hidden from me, and Feng Liu's blood lingers on you."

Feiyin exhaled as he let Baiyu slither down. "Then it seems that I cannot convince you otherwise."

She didn't answer.

Her fingers lowered slowly.

In her mind, memory stirred, not of this mine, not of Feng Liu, but of the place where her life had been shaped. A room dim with incense, lined with scrolls and silence sharp enough to cut.

Her father had never been a father. He had been her master. The one who forged what she had become today.

Before that day, her life had been the brightest it would ever be, days of bland porridge, the smell of hay, and the old nurse who hummed lullabies with a cracked voice. She remembered that day with clarity. She was four, still small enough to fit into the corner of her little cot when she heard the heavy steps. He stepped into the shed where she lived, her father, though she did not know the word yet, and told her, flatly, that her mother had died birthing her, and that she was his seed.

Her mother, he said, had been a bitch in heat, a wolf beastwoman whose only worth was to bear his lineage. He did not say her name. He never did. A lowly vessel. That legacy, he said, tainted Ruan's blood. So she was to make up for it through flawless service.

He molded her in war camps drenched with blood and fire, amidst screams and silence. She learned to fight, to kill, to tear out a man's throat with her canines when cornered. She learned to keep breathing after watching entire squads be slaughtered, waiting in silence for orders. She'd been forced to interrogate dying disciples, to silence their pain with her hands when they broke too slowly. She buried her fear. Her self. Her voice.

She did not mourn them. She obeyed. That was the purpose engraved into her.

She had thought herself perfect. She never questioned. Never failed.

Until the day her father presented her to the Sect Master, his own father. A tribute of loyalty. Of blood.

The Sect Master had not even looked at her.

"A girl," he said. "Useless."

That one word shattered everything.

Her father's pride turned to rage. And she bore it.

He told her she was a failure, a disappointment, a waste of flesh and training. That the beast blood in her had tainted everything he built. Then he struck her. Broke her ribs. Spoke of shame. Stripped her down until nothing of herself remained.

And when she lay there, bloodied, breathless, still waiting for new orders, he turned away.

He gave her none.

He sent her on a mission. Any mission. Away from his sight.

That was the moment she understood.

She had been forged into a tool. A weapon whose purpose was now lost.

Now she stood before Feiyin, the taste of old blood still somewhere deep behind her tongue. She enforced rules because it was all she had left. Not hatred. Not justice. Only structure. Only order. Only something to fill the silence.

And that being useful was the only way to be seen.