(7) A Wind That Fears

His last sentence somehow sounded sarcastic, but Wang Zhu remained neutral, her mind focused on the information he shared.

She stood up from the bed and decided to changed the subject.

"What day is it today?"

"It's been two days. When I woke up, I was already in that old demons clutches." Zui clenched his fist as his irritation simmered beneath surface.

"That demon, does it have a name?" she asked.

The young entity looked straight at her and nodded.

"His name is Ruyu. He's a five-hundred-year-old demon." His voice lowered, tinged with contempt.

"My elder sister told me stories about him; how for decades, countless cultivators tried to capture him, but none succeeded. None... except for one."

Zui's gaze locked into her's.

"The cultivator from the Mowei Sect, named Fushui. He was deceived by him. Ruyu pretended to be Fushui's lover, whom he killed and skinned. But in the end, Fushui uncovered the truth and captured Ruyu. After years of mourning his dead lover, Culing, Fushui decided to let go of his grief, and the seal of Ruyu's confinement broke. And you know what happened next."

"Why does he capture you?" Wang Zhu's face clouded with questions.

"Did you see the body he was using earlier?" Zui leaned back against the bed.

"It belonged to a well-known merchant in this city, involved in underground dealings desperate cultivators," he explained.

"Have you heard the rumors about this place? About low-ranking cultivators who use low-level demons as sacrifice to quickly gain power and fulfill their ambitions of becoming high-ranking cultivators? It's all true." his tone flat, as though recounting something he had long suspected.

"And that fool is the one who started all this in the city. I was just exploring this new environment with my elder sister, minding our own business... Right!" Zui suddenly sprang to his feet, a surge of urgency making his movements sharp and frantic.

"I forgot, my elder sister!" His eyes widen in sudden panic.

"Hurry, to the florist brothel!" the young entity shouted, the words tumbling out in a rush of desperation.

Without waiting for a response, he transformed into a gust of wind, wrapping around Wang Zhu's waist.

In an instant, they were flying out of the large sliding window, leaving no room for protest and complaining.

Thirty minutes passed, and finally, they arrived at the expected location. However, it was nothing like what they have envisioned.

The place was desolate, with an air of abandonment. Only a single bridge connected to the town beyond, where just a few people shuffled across, their presence sparse and fleeting.

"No..." Zui muttered, his face etched with anxiety and helplessness.

"No, no, no, no! It can't be! This can't be happening!" he repeated, pacing back and forth franctically, his voice thick with desperation.

Wang Zhu stood to the side, watching him with an unbothered expression, her arms crossed.

"What should I do?" Zui whispered, his face pale and stricken with uncertainty. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath.

Suddenly, the air around him shifted, whipping into motion. A powerful gust surged to life, swirling around him in growing intensity, as though it were on the verge of forming a tornado.

Wang Zhu, keeping her distance-about ten steps away-remained still, her calm gaze fixed on the unfolding scene.

The turbulence lasted for three minutes before it gradually dissipated. When Zui opened his eyes again, a satisfied smile spread across his face, as if the wind had revealed a secret to him.

Turning to Wang Zhu, he saw her unsheathing her sword, clearly preparing to leave.

In an instant, he summoned the wind, snatching the sword from her grip, and teleported to her side, his expression firm with disapproval.

"Where are you going?" he asked sharply.

Wang Zhu's calm eyes flicked from Zui to her stolen sword.

"My sword." she said in an even voice. Yet, despite the composure in her tone, Zui felt a chill ripple through him, his body tensing instinctively.

As expected of a cultivator nearing the first level of high rank. Zui force a nervous smile. He quickly returned the sword to her without protest.

"So, where were you planning to go just now?" he asked again, his tone less confrontational.

Sliding her sword back into its scabbard, Wang Zhu glanced at him briefly.

"It's been two days, and you're fully healed. I must return to my sect and inform them about the demon you mentioned."

"You can't!" Zui's voice cracked, his tone urgent.

Realizing how abrupt he sounded, he stepped back, his expression softening into regret.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, lowering his gaze.

For a moment, he stood still, gathering the courage to speak again. When he did, his voice quieter, almost fragile.

"As you saw, Ruyu captured me without effort. That's because... I don't know how to fight. I only know a few tricks-calling on the wind for small, harmless things. I can't turn them into weapons..." He faltered, the weight of his next words pressing down on him.

"And... I'm afraid," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice raw and unguarded.

Wang Zhu's brow furrowed slightly. She found it hard to reconcile fear with the image of a demon. Yet the sincerity in Zui's voice made her think other wise.

In all her 21 years, she had never heard a demon speak of fear. She had only faced bloodthirsty creatures, ruthless and insatiable, driven by their desire to destroy, devour souls, or steal bodies to inhabit.

"I've never killed anyone," Zui added.

"Especially not a human. My elder sister raised me to avoid such acts. So... before you leave, please, just this once, help me rescue my sister from Ruyu."

Wang Zhu's brows twitch, the faintest crack in her otherwise impassive expression.

"She was captured too?"

Zui met her gaze and give a small, solemn nod.

"I promise I'll leave you alone after this. You'll never see me again, I swear. Just... help me."

Wang Zhu said nothing, her sharp gaze scrutinizing him, peeling back layers in search of deciet.

"You mentioned a brothel. Where is it?" she asked.

Zui's expression darkened with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

"It's not here anymore. It's already heading to the northern region."