Chapter 87: Blurred Lines

The moon hung low, veiled in mist.

Beyond the outer rim of the Crownless Tournament grounds, Bai Ru moved in practiced silence through the whispering woods. Her lantern swung gently in her hand, illuminating petals of heartbloom—a rare herb used to stabilize spiritual qi during breakthrough rebounds. She had insisted on gathering them herself.

"Kai will need them when he wakes," she'd said. "And I need to clear my head."

But something felt wrong.

No night sparrows. No wind. Even the trees held their breath.

She turned slowly, senses flaring.

Too late.

Shadows dropped from above—three figures clad in black, masks of bone-white jade gleaming like death. Each wore the coiling mark of the Golden Serpent Sect, a name whispered like poison among healers.

"The soft-spoken one," one said, voice gravel over stone. "Take her alive. She's leverage."

Bai Ru moved on instinct—flinging a talisman to the ground. Light flared, momentarily blinding.

She leapt back, fingers flicking silver darts into a deadly arc. One found its mark—blood bloomed in shadow—but the second attacker surged forward.

Their palm struck her ribs with brutal precision. She reeled.

The third—silent and surgical—slipped behind her and drove a needle into her neck.

Paralysis talisman. Spiritual dampener.

Bai Ru gasped, knees folding. Her vision blurred. As her body hit the moss, she caught one last glimpse of the forest sky—stars flickering above like scattered prayers.

"Kai…"

Darkness swallowed her.

⸻

Elsewhere, within the sanctum of Mount Sangzhao…

Kai Jin awoke in a rush of breath, chest heaving like a drowning man breaking the surface.

His skin steamed, still crackling with qi. The Fifth Ring throbbed inside him, fresh and unanchored—but something was wrong.

Her qi was missing.

He could feel Yue nearby. Lin Su, turbulent and sharp. But Bai Ru's presence—calm, gentle, always there—was gone.

His body moved before his mind caught up.

He stumbled from the sanctum, shirtless, soaked in sweat, eyes glowing faintly.

Yue met him at the threshold. "Kai? What—"

"Where's Bai Ru?" he demanded. His voice was low, tight, already knowing the answer.

Yue blinked. "She left to gather herbs. She should've been back—"

But she wasn't.

And he couldn't feel her.

⸻

They found the talisman first. Then the scattered herbs. Then her pendant—torn and bloodied, hanging from a branch like a warning.

Kai stared at it for a long moment.

Lin Su knelt beside the drag marks in the soil, her hands trembling. Her demon mark pulsed faintly across her collarbone.

"Golden Serpent," she said, voice like crushed ice. "They specialize in subtle poisons and psychological torture. They won't kill her—not yet."

Kai didn't speak.

He just closed his eyes.

And let his qi bloom outward in every direction.

The force of it flattened trees, sent birds scattering into the night. Yue staggered back. Even Lin Su hissed softly, shielding her face.

Then—he locked in.

A flicker. A trace.

A heartbeat.

North. Three miles. Underground.

He vanished.

⸻

The cave was hidden beneath a stone ridge, masked with runes and spiritual fog. But Kai tore through them like wet paper.

The first guard didn't see him coming. Neither did the second. The third managed to scream before Kai crushed his ribs with a single palm strike.

Inside, torches crackled. Shadows moved.

Bai Ru hung suspended by spirit threads, her skin pale, lips bruised, a faint line of blood at her temple.

A masked cultivator turned at the intrusion—barely raised his blade—before Kai's hand was at his throat.

"You touched something sacred," Kai whispered.

Then crushed him like ash.

⸻

Later, in the aftermath, Kai knelt beside Bai Ru, gently unraveling the threads. Her eyes fluttered open—dazed, unfocused.

"You came," she rasped.

He nodded, voice shaking. "Always."

She reached up weakly, fingers brushing his jaw. "You're glowing…"

"So are you," he said softly.

Behind them, Lin Su leaned silently against the wall, arms crossed. She was watching—but not with jealousy. Something else. Something deeper.

Regret. Guilt. A longing she didn't understand yet.

Yue stepped beside her quietly. "He would've torn down every wall in the world to find her," she said.

Lin Su scoffed faintly, but didn't deny it.

"He already did."

⸻

That night, under a fractured moon, Bai Ru lay against Kai's chest in silence. He held her not like a warrior holding a trophy, but like a man holding the piece of himself he'd nearly lost.

"You shouldn't have come alone," he whispered.

She smiled faintly, exhausted. "I didn't want you to worry."

He kissed her brow. "I'll always worry. But next time… we go together."

Outside, Yue and Lin Su sat on the edge of the cliff, watching the stars. For a rare moment, neither said a word.

But something in the way Yue gently handed Lin Su a warm cup of tea—a quiet understanding passed between them.

Even broken things could be mended…

But some lines, once blurred, never quite became clear again