As dawn broke, the dew on the mountain gate's Stone Steps had not yet dried, and I followed Lu Jiuxuan back. He walked ahead, his steps heavier than on the way there, as if counting each one. I touched my chest; the Pendant lay against my skin, warm, neither hot nor pulsing, but the vibration transmitted from the north still echoed in my arm, like a thread gently pulling.
We didn't use the main gate, circling around the wall of the Side Courtyard. The three Corpses from last night had dissolved completely, not even ash remaining, but the trace of Incense Ash on the ground was still there, blown apart at one corner by the morning wind. Lu Jiuxuan glanced at it, didn't stop, only pulled his cuff down further, covering his Heart Area.
Smoke was already rising from the Mess Hall, the oily smell of stew mixed with the scent of firewood drifting in the air. A dozen Menial Laborers stood in line by the entrance, holding coarse ceramic bowls, chattering while waiting for the pots to open. I lowered my head and followed them in, pulling my hat down further and tugging my sleeves to cover my wrists.
The battle last night had not completely dispersed the Demonic Qi. It was lodged in my Bloodline, like burnt charcoal residue, sparking if I moved. I tried to walk lightly and suppressed my breathing, afraid that a single gasp would reveal something.
At the serving window, the uncle ladling soup was short and slightly stooped, his apron smeared with grease, and the iron ladle in his hand was polished bright. He looked up at me without speaking, poured a ladle of soup into my bowl, and the oil slick rolled twice on the surface.
I reached out to take the bowl, and my sleeve slipped, revealing a section of my wrist.
His ladle paused.
Soup kept dripping, one drop, two drops, landing on the edge of the pot, letting off a wisp of white steam.
He stared at my wrist, his gaze changing—it wasn't the look one gives a person, but like a dog smelling raw meat; his nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled.
I immediately pulled my sleeve down.
"Uncle?" My voice was deliberately lazy, "The soup is getting cold."
He ignored me, suddenly raising his hand, the iron ladle crashing into the soup pot with a clang, splashing a sheet of hot oil.
"Kid," his voice was low, as if coming from underground, "You smell."
I stood still.
The Helpers behind him, who had been chopping vegetables, stopped when they heard that. Someone slapped a cleaver onto the cutting board and stood up.
"What smell?" I asked, my tone still relaxed, as if joking.
"Fishy," he stared at me, his hand already reaching for the iron rod by the pot's edge. "Like a stray dog that died three nights ago, its skin burned off, but still clinging to life."
I took half a step back, my heel hitting the threshold.
The people around started to close in. Two Helpers approached from either side, both holding knives. A short man directly blocked the back door, carrying a cleaver used for chopping bones. No one spoke, but their movements were coordinated; clearly, this was routine for them.
I scanned the area; there was no clear path. The door was too narrow, and there were too many people; I couldn't rush out. The Compass in my embrace was still hot, pressed against my chest like a Branding Iron. I slowly reached into my robes, preparing to pull out the Compass and claim I was sent by Instructor Lu to check the accounts—the Academy feared accounting errors most, and that excuse could buy me time.
But just then, the sound of a shaking wine flask came from outside the door.
With a bang, the door was kicked open.
Lu Jiuxuan stood in the doorway, holding a green-skinned wine flask, the hem of his robe stained with mud. He didn't look at me, walking straight to the serving counter and placing the flask on the cutting board.
"Demon-Repelling Wine," he said, his voice as cold as well water. "The Barrier loosened last night; sprinkle it everywhere."
The ladle uncle frowned. "Instructor, this wine... shouldn't be used carelessly."
"Do I look like someone who uses things carelessly?" Lu Jiuxuan twisted open the flask cap, and a sharp, pungent smell rushed out, mixed with the scent of Cinnabar and fierce fire. He raised his hand and splashed it; the liquid drew a red streak in the air, and upon hitting the ground, it instantly ignited into a line of fire, burning in a circle along the floor, pressing right up to the feet of those armed Helpers.
They all retreated half a step.
The circle of fire surrounded Lu Jiuxuan and me, the heat washing over our faces. Only then did Lu Jiuxuan turn to look at me, his expression completely steady. "What are you standing there for? Take your bowl and go."
I picked up the soup bowl and followed him with my head down. The line of fire was still burning, crackling, and no one dared to approach.
Stepping out of the Mess Hall door, the fire was extinguished by the wind. Lu Jiuxuan tucked the wine flask back into his sleeve, said nothing, and walked forward.
I followed behind, my palms slick with sweat. The soup bowl was still steaming, but I couldn't bring myself to take a single sip.
"Why did you come back?" I asked.
"The Academy didn't grant leave," he didn't slow his pace. "The three Corpses disappeared last night; the Hall of Deacons needs an investigation. We can't leave."
I hummed in acknowledgment and looked down at the bowl. A few vegetable leaves floated on the soup surface, along with some oil slicks. I suddenly remembered the ladle uncle's words—"Fishy."
I raised my hand and smelled my own sleeve cuff.
There was no smell at all.
But that Demonic Qi was definitely still there. It hadn't dispersed; it had just hidden, like something tucked between the bones, waiting for me to relax before emerging.
"You just now..." I began, "That wine, can it really repel demons?"
"No," he said. "But they believe it can."
I looked up at him.
The corner of his mouth twitched; he wasn't smiling, but his gaze softened for a moment. "Academy rules state that in areas where Demon-Repelling Wine has been sprinkled, no investigation into strange energies is allowed for three days. You are safe, for three days at least."
I lowered my head, staring at the soup in the bowl.
Safe? The Demonic Qi inside me remained, the Pendant was still warm, and the vibration from the north hadn't stopped. The ladle uncle could smell it; what about others? The sweeping Old Man? A night-duty disciple? Or some seemingly harmless cook?
"Why did you help me?" I asked.
His steps slowed by half a beat.
"You shouldn't ask that," he said. "You are a student of the Academy now, and I am an Instructor. Protecting a student is my duty."
I gave a small laugh. "But the Seal on your Heart Area has cracked. Protecting me means gambling with your life."
He didn't turn back, only pressed his hand against his cuff, as if restraining something. "The Seal is none of your concern."
The wind blew from behind, carrying the oily smell of the Mess Hall. I suddenly felt tired. Not physically tired, but soul-tired. From last night until now, there had been no rest: fleeing, fighting, hiding, deceiving—every step was taken on the edge of a knife.
"Am I... about to be unable to hide it anymore?" I murmured.
He stopped and turned to look at me.
His gaze was still, like a waveless lake at night.
"You have hidden very well," he said. "But don't forget, you are not hiding alone."
I froze.
He glanced at me, turned, and continued walking forward.
I stood in place, the wind blowing away the heat from the soup. The oil slick in the bowl slowly solidified, like a thin layer of ice.
Three days. He had bought me three days.
But I knew that after three days, the Demonic Qi would emerge again. Next time, perhaps a bowl of soup and a flask of wine wouldn't be enough to fool them.
I raised my hand and pressed the Pendant into my chest.
It was still pulsing, once, twice, as if counting down the time.
The vibration from the north returned, slightly heavier than before.
I looked up at the sky.
The clouds hung low, obscuring the sun, but the light still filtered through, illuminating Lu Jiuxuan's Silver Hair like a dusting of pale frost.
He walked ahead of me, his back perfectly straight, but I could see his fingers occasionally twitch—the Seal was pulling at him.
I held the bowl and followed.
The soup had gone cold, but I still took a sip.
It was salty, slightly astringent, and carried an indescribable bitterness, as if Medicinal Dregs had been mixed into the dish.
I swallowed it without spitting it out.
This taste, I would have to learn to get used to.