Transported

Shen Mu had exhaled through his nose, setting his cup down. "Sounds like trouble."

Jin Jianyu had expected him to ignore it—he usually did. But this time, Shen Mu stood, stretching as if shaking off some unseen weight.

"Come on, kid," he'd said, his usual teasing lilt absent. "Let's see what all the fuss is about."

Jin Jianyu hesitated. "It's probably just another outer disciple getting disciplined."

Shen Mu's lips quirked. "Exactly. So why does it feel different?"

Jin Jianyu couldn't argue with that.

Jin Jianyu followed Shen Mu out of the teahouse, his pulse quickening with every step. The air felt thick, charged with tension. They hadn't meant to go this way.

The voices near the sect's outer gate grew sharper, more agitated. By the time they reached the entrance, a crowd had already gathered. Disciples stood on their toes, whispering among themselves, while outer sect members hovered anxiously on the edges.

A wrongness pressed against Jin Jianyu's skin.

Shen Mu came to a stop. His normally relaxed posture stiffened, the ever-present smirk absent from his lips. Jin Jianyu swallowed hard and followed his gaze.

Two men stood at the gate, flanking a third figure dressed in the Veiled Sky Sect's robes. The middle-aged man in the center had sharp, calculating eyes and a neatly trimmed beard—Elder Liang, one of the sect's internal affairs overseers. He spoke in hushed tones with an unfamiliar cultivator clad in dark blue robes embroidered with silver clouds.

Jin Jianyu didn't recognize the emblem, but the way the surrounding disciples avoided looking directly at the man made his skin crawl.

Shen Mu's hand tensed at his side. "Stay back, Jianyu."

Jin Jianyu barely heard him. His focus had locked onto something else.

Kneeling just past the men, bound at the wrists with shimmering golden restraints—

Shen Mu.

Jin Jianyu's breath hitched. His stomach dropped as the murmurs around him surged.

"That's Shen Mu! The former genius of the sect!" someone gasped. "Why is he restrained? What did he do?"

Genius.

Jin Jianyu still remembered the first time he had heard that word attached to Shen Mu. Not as a disciple, but as an orphan, cold and starving in the mountains. Shen Mu had found him... half-dead, covered in dirt and bruises. Others would have walked past, but not him.

"Hah, you're a scrawny one." Shen Mu had crouched down, tossing Jin Jianyu a steamed bun. "Eat."

Jin Jianyu had devoured it like a starving dog. He expected the man to leave after that. Instead, Shen Mu sighed.

"Tch. Looks like I have to take responsibility now."

And just like that, his life had changed. But now, he knelt before them like a criminal.

This had to be a mistake. Shen Mu wasn't someone who caused trouble—well, not the kind that got you dragged back in chains. Lazy? Unmotivated? A nuisance to the elders? Sure. But this?

This was different.

Elder Liang raised a hand, silencing the courtyard before his voice rang out, cold and absolute.

"Shen Mu has been charged with violating sect law and consorting with forbidden forces. He will be taken into custody for questioning."

The words slammed into Jin Jianyu's chest.

Forbidden forces? That wasn't some petty rule breaking. That was the kind of crime that got people erased from history.

Jin Jianyu's gaze shot back to Shen Mu. He expected defiance, maybe even anger. But Shen Mu only lifted his head and met his eyes.

Calm. Unshaken. And then—

A smirk. Small, almost lazy.

But his eyes—his eyes were serious. A warning. A silent plea.

Jin Jianyu felt his feet move before he could think. No. This is wrong. This isn't—

"Wait!" His voice cracked. "This has to be a mistake! Shen Mu wouldn't—"

"Silence." Elder Liang's gaze pinned him in place. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of absolute authority. "This does not concern you, boy. Step aside."

Jin Jianyu clenched his fists. But it does concern me.

Shen Mu was his only protector. His only friend in this wretched place.

"Where are you taking him?"

Elder Liang barely acknowledged him. "That is not your concern."

Jin Jianyu took a step forward. A firm hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

He turned. One of the outer sect disciples—older, taller—shook his head. His grip was tight, fingers digging into Jin Jianyu's shoulder. As if silently urging him to not interfere. It was a clear underlying message. Don't.

Jin Jianyu felt sick. Powerless.

Shen Mu, still kneeling, exhaled softly. His smirk deepened, but the shake of his head was almost imperceptible.

Don't.

Jin Jianyu's throat burned. His nails dug into his palms. He wanted to fight. He wanted to scream. But against an elder? Against the sect itself?

What could he do?

The golden restraints shimmered. The blue-robed cultivator lifted a hand.

And then—

Shen Mu unraveled.

One moment, he was there. The next, his form twisted like smoke, pulled into a spiraling void of silver mist. His body stretched, thinning like strands of silk unraveling from a spool—his smirk, his face, his presence... gone.

Jin Jianyu blinked.

The space where Shen Mu had been was empty.

No body. No blood.

No proof he had ever stood there at all.

His mind refused to accept it. No. That's not possible. One breath ago, Shen Mu was there, smirking like he always did, warning him to stay back. Now? Gone. As if the world itself had decided he no longer belonged.

Jin Jianyu staggered forward before his legs locked up. Did anyone else see that? His gaze darted across the courtyard, searching the faces of the gathered disciples.

No one spoke. No one moved.

The whispers had stopped.

A few outer sect disciples stood frozen, their faces pale as the moon, but none stepped forward. None protested. It was as if some invisible force had pressed down on the sect, crushing all sound, all resistance.

Elder Liang turned, his robe barely stirring as he moved. The blue-robed cultivator followed without a word.

And that was it.

A life taken. A presence erased.

Like stepping on a leaf and forgetting it ever existed.

Jin Jianyu sucked in a sharp breath. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails pressing into his skin, desperate to feel something—anything—other than the numbing void creeping into his chest.

This isn't real.

But it was.

Shen Mu was gone.

Jin Jianyu turned toward the disciples. Some had already begun dispersing, moving in tight groups, murmuring in low voices. Others kept their eyes on the ground, eager to pretend they hadn't seen anything at all.

The courtyard remained silent, every disciple unwilling to speak the truth they had just witnessed. Elder Liang turned without hesitation, the blue-robed cultivator following in eerie silence. Within moments, it was as if the commotion had never happened, swallowed by the weight of the sect's unspoken rules.

But Jin Jianyu's world had collapsed.

For the next few days, Jin Jianyu barely spoke. He went through the motions, attending his menial duties, avoiding conflict, keeping his head down. The sect had returned to normal, as if Shen Mu had never existed.

Except, he did exist.

Jin Jianyu replayed the scene over and over in his mind. The way Shen Mu had looked at him. The warning in his eyes. The lack of hesitation and pushback from Elder Liang. The way no one asked questions.

Why didn't Shen Mu fight back?

What was he hiding?

What had the sect done to him?

Questions gnawed at him like an unbearable hunger. One evening, unable to stand it any longer, Jin Jianyu slipped out of his quarters. If Shen Mu had truly committed a crime, there had to be a record of it. Something. Anything. The sects record keepers would have made sure of it.

The records hall stood quiet at this hour, its entrance flanked by stone lanterns casting long shadows across the courtyard. Inside, the glow of candlelight flickered where a few diligent disciples copied old scrolls.

Jin Jianyu kept his head down, shoulders hunched as if that would make him invisible. His heart pounded, a heavy drumbeat against his ribs, each step feeling louder than it should. If he got caught, there would be no excuses, no explanations—only punishment.

He shook the thought away. It doesn't matter.

Crouching in front of the old wooden cabinets, he scanned the labels. His fingers trembled as they traced the worn characters carved into one of the drawers:

Internal Disciplinary Records.

Carefully, he pulled it open. Stacks of scrolls threatened to spill out. His hands moved quickly, sifting through names, charges, punishments. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he moved from scroll to scroll.

Then—

[ Shen Mu – Investigation for Violating Sect Law ]

Status: TRANSPORTED.

Jin Jianyu's breath hitched. Questions began swirling around his mind again.

Not executed? Not imprisoned? But transported? To where though?

Before he could read further, the soft patter of footsteps echoed through the hall.

His blood ran cold.

Someone was coming.