This Shizun's Disappointment part 3

Fu Ran had lost track of time. He laid on the ground until even the non-injured side of his body began to feel numb. Whether from this damn intoxicating scent of burnt ash, or from the severe damage to his qi meridians, he didn't want to move. 

At first, he could only get to his knees. The auction house chairs served as decent support, but he was numb. He stretched out his fingers on his right hand and inspected the underside of his arm. Beneath Tian Han's black and red robes, his ghastly skin was clearly visible.

If a medical practitioner were to look him over, they would have thought his veins had suffered trauma. Dark bruising trailed up his arm, twisting in spiraling patterns like broken blood vessels.

Fu Ran calmed his breathing and tried to summon spiritual energy, but before it could even begin to form, he felt the familiar burn and winced.

"Fuck," he rasped.

His jaw tightened, and his face scrunched up in pain. He had never experienced something quite like this before. A cultivator without the use of their spiritual energy was no longer a cultivator at all. If this wasn't curable, his days could be numbered.

Damn it all, he thought. Fu Ran should have seriously considered the possibility of injuries. Yet, he didn't. Believe it or not, his sword skill was supposed to be his strong suit. He trained to perfect it for so many hours growing up.

He halfway collapsed over the chair in front of him. "Heavens, what am I supposed to do?"

The answer was clear—chase them and take Shi Wei Ji back. But did he have any chance of doing that in this state? Could he even finish the mission like this? There were still investigations to be done in Bei Zangli.

He grimaced.

The sound of tiny footsteps would have gone unnoticed if he hadn't caught sight of the hem of a small hanfu.

"You finally stood up."

Fu Ran jolted at the sound of a little girl's voice. When he raised his head, his eyes met a familiar blend of teals and greens. The last time he had seen that face, her expression had been twisted in terror, her dark eyes flooded with tears.

It was the first girl he had seen in the auction. How had she managed to get out of the cage?

"You're okay?" Fu Ran asked, bewildered.

"You purchased me."

Fu Ran flinched. That wasn't what he asked, and yet she answered without missing a beat. Her words felt like a slap to his face. He already felt sick, but now he truly wanted to vomit. 

He covered his mouth, and thus unintentionally muffled his words. "I... I don't care what you do. Just—Just don't…" Don't talk to him? Don't get caught again? He didn't know what he wanted to say. 

"You're a cultivator, aren't you?" The girl asked. "Please, take me with you."

"What? Why?" Fu Ran squinted at her. 

She looked no different from a regular young teenage girl, not even in bad condition. Her clothes were nice enough to suggest she had money and parents. Why did she suddenly ask about becoming a cultivator? No, the answer was absolutely, and resoundingly, "No." If he had the gall to pay for a disciple, then he would be no better than the old Peak Elder who used to do the same. 

But he didn't know what to say. His mind was blank, searching for a reason to dismiss her, but she didn't budge in the slightest. Even his silence didn't make her face waver. 

Be it confidence, or stubbornness, or something else entirely, she wasn't leaving. 

Fu Ran was too tired to even ask her name, so finally, he sighed. "We'll talk about that later. For now..."

He pressed a finger of his non-injured hand to his chin. "How can I convince them to let you in?" he muttered to himself.

If she could just wait in the Twin Summit Hotel room, he could take his time hobbling back. Meng Xiao was the cautious type, but Lin An acted on emotion. Maybe…

"Here. I want you to wear this. Do you know where Twin Summits is? Go there quietly, and knock on the fourth door on the thirteenth floor."

Fu Ran slowly removed Tian Han's black robes from his shoulders, trying to avoid triggering his injuries. Then, he handed them to the little girl. She put them on as instructed, but the fabric swallowed her whole. Even lifting the hem to keep it from dragging, it was far too big.

It would have to do. He could decide what to do with her later.

"Yes, Teacher."

Her words sent a shudder through him.

As soon as she was gone, a weight lifted off his shoulders, but it did nothing to ease the heat suffocating him. His body was burning up and his vision was still swimming—he was trying to control it during that whole conversation.

Fu Ran let out a quiet curse and tried to lower himself onto one of the auction seats. The moment his knees bent, a sharp, searing pain lanced through his body.

Sweat dripped from his temple. All of the warnings he received as a child told him how badly injuries to ones qi meridians were, but he didn't take them to heart.

He figured it would never apply to him.

"Get it together," Fu Ran muttered, voice rough as gravel. Reassurance is what he needed, but the "King of Empty Reassurance," Zhi Lao, wasn't present at the moment. 

A shattered mirror across the room caught his eye. It showed a tangled mess of hair and a pale, pitiful face staring back. The Imposter's previous taunt slithered in: "Young naivete is so annoying." His stomach twisted tight.

That particular phrase stuck with Fu Ran, and irritated him. What did some nobody know about him and "Young Naivete?" 

He jostled in the chair until the armrest dug into his waist.

It all ached.

Even his bun pulled too tight right now, the hairpin dug into his scalp with every shift. 

The Tyrant Emperor was managing to do his job, and yet Fu Ran was drowning in his own sweat and failure. His left hand twitched. Gone, he wanted the pressure gone.

Right now everything was too much; even his own heart beat was too loud in his ears.

So frustrating—

Uncomfortable, Fu Ran shot upright in the chair, and his hair fell into his face. The pin jabbed again, and his fingers snatched it, tearing his hair free with a sting.

He hurled the hairpin across the floor, and it clattered loudly in the empty hall. And yet again, he felt like a mess of a Peak Master.

He slumped back into his seat with a defeated breathly whine, and his hair tented the seat. Fu Ran had no idea how he was going to stand up again.