Idiot Tyrant

"Enjoy that damn tyrant. You won't have to look at him for long," The Imposter hissed. He effortlessly stepped onto the bloodied Shi Wei Ji, hovering near the golden-masked man.

They vanished with the wind, leaving behind only billowing red maple leaves. The roof tiles creaked under Fu Ran's knees as he turned from the fading gust, his eyes locking on Tian Han's still form.

If he had chased after them, perhaps he could have held onto his sword a little longer and run while he still had the chance. But that thought was already slipping away, insignificant against the weight of everything else.

A distant wail echoed through the trees. It sounded like a young girl's thin and brittle cry, but it barely registered.

Tian Han was too pale to focus anywhere else. Even with his fingers hovering just above Tian Han's lips, the puffs of air were faint. He was still warm, but the passing breeze had already chilled the blood on his robes, drying it in uneven streaks.

Fu Ran's arms ached, his reserves scraped clean. When spiritual energy ran out, the body paid the price, and he had been running on borrowed strength since the moment of his injury.

He cupped Tian Han's cheek, brushing away the blood with the back of his fingers. He couldn't tell if his healing was doing anything. The wound still gaped, and for the first time in a while, he felt powerless in a way that terrified him.

Then came a weak whisper, "Shizun…?"

Tian Han's eyes flickered open, dazed but steady, and the sight nearly stopped Fu Ran's heart.

No. No, he shouldn't be awake.

"Tian Han?" Fu Ran dropped forward, hovering over him. "How are you awake? Stay still! You—" His voice broke. "You're in pain, aren't you?"

Tian Han's lashes fluttered. Somehow, against all logic, he smiled. "How could I be in pain… when Shizun is touching me?"

Fu Ran's chest caved in.

"You're an idiot," he snapped, pressing his palm harder over the wound. "You're delirious. You shouldn't even be conscious."

Fu Ran paused before adding a quick apology. He murmured, "I'm sorry."

"Never… apologize to me." Tian Han's words were a whisper.

Tian Han lifted a shaky and uncoordinated hand. But he still managed to catch Fu Ran's wrist. His grip was barely there, fingertips bloodied, but warm. He brought a single knuckle to his lips and chuckled against the pale skin. "Shizun…"

He was too weak to lie, and there was no malice beneath that smile.

That made the moment so much worse. 

Tian Han's grip slackened, and his head lulled to the side. The fact that he had spoken at all made this action more jarring than the last time he collapsed. Fu Ran tenderly shook his shoulder, repeating his name again and again.

But the sounds of stomping feet caused attention. For the first time in a long while, he startled enough to stop flowing spiritual energy into Tian Han's chest.

For a second, he panicked, thinking it might have been Lin An, but the cry wasn't quite as shrill. And the reason he might not have been able to place it at first was because he'd never heard that voice cry before; it sounded like Su Biyu.

From the tree line burst two men. One of them carried a smaller girl under his arm.

"Zhi-Shidi! There's more, dammit!"

"Shixiong?" Fu Ran whispered. It hadn't been long since he last saw Shesui Lang, but relief hit so sharply that his breath wavered. He scrubbed a bloodied sleeve against his cheek.

Shesui Lang beamed, effortlessly vaulting onto the temple rooftop. "Princes—!" He started, but the moment he saw the amount of blood he startled. 

His steps faltered, and for a moment, he almost lost his grip on Su Biyu. She gave a startled yelp, but he barely seemed to notice.

It took a second too long for him to react. His eyes traced the deep crimson soaking through Fu Ran's robes, the gaping wound in Tian Han's chest, the sheer stillness of his body. Slowly, the color drained from his face.

Shesui Lang uttered breathlessly, "Fu Shidi, what happened?"

"Please," Fu Ran begged.

Shesui Lang lingered for too long on Fu Ran's reddening eyes before he shifted to Tian Han's condition. Just one look should have been enough to see that his injuries were critical.

He gently sat Su Biyu against the stone tiles. Judging by the look of pity on his face, he must have been thinking that Fu Ran looked just as bad.

Fu Ran could feel his robes sticking to his skin, and every breath he took was a wave of nauseating iron.

"She-xiong will handle this," Shesui Lang raised his voice, mocking a playful demeanor. "You should go help Zhi-xiong." He definitely tried his best to hide his concerns behind a look of false smiles. However, bad news had to be broken eventually.

The truth was, Shi Wei Ji was gone, and he had somehow lost his most recently purchased blade in the frenzy.

"I'm sorry, Shixiong." Fu Ran's voice wavered, the words slipping unsteadily from his lips. "But I think I'll be useless. I've lost my spiritual blade and shamefully suffered injuries to my qi meridians."

As he spoke, his hand moved unconsciously to his hip, where Shi Wei Ji should have been. His fingers curled, expecting the cool weight of the hilt—but there was nothing. Just empty air. A loss far deeper than his physical wounds.

Shesui Lang blinked, his fingers twitching against Tian Han's chest. "Lost Shi Wei Ji? Injured?" His gaze flickered down to Fu Ran's hip, where the sword was conspicuously absent. A slight tremor ran through his shoulders, but his voice remained steady. "Then… then just stay near me. It's okay, princess. We're here."

A faint glow of light flickered to life over Tian Han's chest. This healing looked more familiar—more akin to Yi Yang's abilities.

The pull of Fu Ran's emotions was nearly too much. He was mentally and physically exhausted, bearing the stress of Tian Han's condition. This was all his own fault, wasn't it? Why did anyone else have to be involved? Injuries to himself were fine, but trauma to his disciples? Potentially life-threatening damage to Tian Han?

Those were just not acceptable.

Su Biyu clutched onto Fu Ran and pulled him out of his unease. In her hands, she held a small blue call stone.

"Why do you have that?"

"I… I stole it out of your bag. And I used it to call for help. I'm…" She glanced between Fu Ran and Tian Han, her face growing darker with whatever shift overcame her. "I'm so sorry…"

Fu Ran took back the small stone and watched the girl shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. She clearly didn't mean to, or everything she did would have been coated in such malice. In fact, if the golden-masked man really cared to work with her, wouldn't he have taken her too?

And yet, she was here, apologizing again and showing her sadness through action.

Fu Ran lifted his hand, but Su Biyu tensed.

It was a slight movement—too small to be called a flinch, but noticeable enough. The way she held herself now was different from before, more wary.

Fu Ran hesitated. Did she… think he was going to strike her?

The thought unsettled him, but he did not let it show. Instead, he lowered his hand with deliberate care atop her head. For a moment, she didn't react at all. After what felt like an eternity, she sighed, as if she had exhaled something heavy she had been holding in.

Her gaze remained on the ground. "…Will you still let me stay?"

Fu Ran did not answer immediately. He simply pressed his hand more firmly against her hair, as if grounding her in place.

"If you wish to," he said at last. "And if you'll tell me more about it later?"

Her eyes were wide. "Later?"

"Perhaps when we return to the sect?"

She shook her head. "What do you mean, the sect? You're not telling me to come back with you, right? Why would you want that? I lied and…"

Su Biyu looked like she was lost in thought. Her face twisted in guilt, and her fingers clung to his robes. Fu Ran wasn't going to be the one to rush her if she looked like she needed time to put together her words. 

But eventually she muttered, "I didn't… expect you to be so nice?" 

Her original topic derailed, and her palms fell against her knees. "I was told I'd be able to leave if I just kept tabs on you. Whether he meant it or not, Tian Xiansheng still gave me to a brothel. Those women are nice, and they never expected me to work. But… I was told I'd be given freedom? And promised that it would never happen again?"

"Then, that's that," Fu Ran answered bluntly.

The straightforwardness took her off guard. She looked baffled. "But…"

"Well, do you want to join the sect? If it's freedom that you want, then you have the freedom of choice. I won't drag you back against your will."

"No!" She paused. "No, I mean, you wouldn't be dragging me back against my will! I want to!" she clarified.

The young girl was an absolute mess, her face constantly twisting and relaxing by force. Even though she was steadying her breathing to the best of her ability, the anxiety weighed visibly on her shoulders.

"That sounds about right," Shesui Lang jokingly added. He was still working tirelessly to heal the unconscious cultivator, but he shared a glance. "She sounds like you. I can see why you wanted her as a disciple. The truth is, girly, he already called me and asked me to do the paperwork. All you gotta do is agree."

"Really?" And now Su Biyu sounded ready to cry. It took a few seconds for that to register, as she watched Fu Ran with disbelief.

When he nodded, she shot up to her knees and collapsed onto Fu Ran with a sob. Her cries completely jumbled her words into an incoherent mess, but praises of thanks slipped through next to his ear.

He winced. "Hey, hey, there's no need for that!" He gingerly offered her pats on the back, trying to calm her shaking nerves, but his voice trailed into a soft whisper.

"...There, there. Shizun is right here…"