Escaping the City

Lian Xue pressed herself against the cold stone of the outer estate wall, heart pounding so loudly she feared it might give her away. The world beyond the clan had always seemed vast and distant. It always seemed like something you would only hear in stories. Yet tonight, that world was all around her, dark and unknown.

She took a breath, willing her racing thoughts to quieten down. One foot in front of the other — that was how she had always learned the estate's paths. It was how she had memorized every step from her quarters to the training yard, to the dining hall, and to her father's chambers. Now, she would do the same with the city.

Her sandals touched the uneven dirt road outside the estate gates, and it was only then that the realization struck her that she was free of the Lian Clan's walls. While this could be seen as a good thing, it was certainly not. She was now subject to the rules of the cultivation world. The problem is, the only rule is that whomever has the bigger fist is the one in the right. Without sight, without cultivation, she had nothing but her wits and will. The city was certainly no friend to her.

Emerald Ridge City at night was a place of unseen dangers. She had heard the servants describe it just about every single day: narrow alleys that twisted like serpents, open squares where drunks brawled beneath broken lanterns, and the looming walls that kept the wilderness at bay. To Lian Xue, the city was a world of sound and scent. At the moment, those sounds felt magnified with each and every one carrying a threat.

The clatter of hooves on distant cobbles — a patrol, perhaps. The low murmur of voices from a tavern she could not see, the smell of stale ale and smoke carried on the breeze. Somewhere nearby, a dog growled low in its throat. The wind tugged at the hem of her robe, and every gust seemed to expose her — a blind girl, alone, with no strength to defend herself.

She kept to the walls where she could, her fingers brushing against rough stone, cracked plaster, wooden beams. Each texture was a guide, a reassurance that she was not stepping into empty air. She counted her paces, remembered where the sounds shifted — the market square was wider, the air there smelled of spice and drying fish. The temple's great bell, silent at this hour, would lie to the east. The garrison's forge, cold now, had left behind the faint tang of burnt metal.

As she passed the market, voices called out despite the hour. Merchants lingering late, desperate for one last sale, hawked their goods into the night.

"Dried persimmons! Sweet as honey, come have a taste!"

"Silks! Fine silks from the south! Just a glance, good sir — or lady?"

One voice, eager and insistent, called directly toward her as she passed.

"Miss! Miss! You look like you could use a charm for safe travels — ward off evil with this blessed talisman!"

She kept her head down, saying nothing, heart racing as she moved on.

To the north, she knew, lay the compound of the Zhao Clan — a sprawling estate she had heard was built like a fortress, with high walls and guarded gates, befitting their pride and paranoia. Further east, along the main street, sat the Jin Clan's grand estate, said to be adorned with gilded eaves and stone lions that watched all who passed. The Jin had wealth while the Zhao had power. Both were traps she dared not stumble toward.

No place in the city would have offered her safety. She could not go to the guards. She could not seek shelter. She could only move forward.

The night was cold, and the city seemed to watch her, every empty window and shuttered stall a pair of unseen eyes. Fear gripped her, but she forced it down. She had lived her whole life in shadow. Tonight was no different — except that this shadow was hers to claim.

She had heard of a place — the broken watchtower at the city's edge. Left to rot after a storm, its stones cracked and half-forgotten. It was said the city no longer bothered to guard it closely due to the danger it faced of collapsing. She knew they planned to fix it, it just happened to be in her favor that they had yet to do so. That was her one hope at the present.

Step by step, she made her way across the city. She moved slowly, pausing often to listen. She was trying to hear the clink of armor, maybe the telltale shuffle of boots. She crossed what must have been an alley in the slums, where the air grew still and empty, her feet brushing against discarded scraps of paper, a broken pot, and something that crunched beneath her. She flinched at every sound, at every echo of her own passing.

The tower, when at last she found it, rose before her like a crumbling giant. She ran her hands along its base, feeling where stone had given way to moss and rot. The smell of damp wood and mildew stung her nose.

Her hands found purchase where the stones had fallen inward. The climb was slow, agonizing — every jagged edge a hazard, every slip a potential end. Her fingers bled where they caught on sharp cracks, and her arms ached from the effort. She felt the night air cool further as she ascended, and the city's sounds faded below, swallowed by distance. The tower could have collapsed at any point. The very act of climbing it could have spelled her end.

At the top, the world opened before her in a rush of wind. She could feel the emptiness beyond the wall, sense the space that meant freedom. The only problem now was the way in which she planned on getting down to that freedom.

She dropped to a crawl and began feeling the floor around her. Despite lacking an education, it did not mean she was not privy to certain facts about the city. One of which was that these towers typically had rope ladders in the event a guard needed to quickly get down.

Her hands moved with purpose, fingertips brushing along the cold, weathered stone. She found the ladder coiled in its niche. The thick cords felt rough beneath her palms, but solid — a lifeline waiting to be used. For a brief moment, she hesitated, her fingers tightening around the coarse rope. There was nothing left for her here — not with the elders determined to hand her over on a silver platter for some crappy benefits.

With care, she unfastened the ladder's securing knots, feeling the weight of it drop as it unfurled down the outer wall. The quiet slap of rope against stone echoed in the night, and she froze, listening for any sign that the sound had drawn attention. Thankfully, it seemed as if her worries were for nothing. The world beyond the wall remained still.

Drawing a breath to steady herself, Lian Xue gripped the ladder and began her descent. The rope bit into her palms, the roughness burning her soft skin. Despite the pain, she didn't stop, not even slightly. Little by little, she lowered herself down, trusting her hands and feet to find their place. She consoled herself by saying if she fell off and perished here, at least it was on her own terms.

The night air grew colder the farther she descended, and with each foot of distance, the weight of the clan, the engagement, the betrayal seemed to ease — if only a little.

When at last her feet touched solid ground outside the estate's walls, she allowed herself a moment's pause, one hand resting against the cool stone as she caught her breath. Above, the tower loomed dark and silent, its secrets intact.

The city waited beyond, and with it, the unknown. But for the first time in days, Lian Xue felt a flicker of freedom — fragile and fleeting, but real.

She turned and slipped into the night, the rope ladder swaying gently behind her, a quiet reminder of the path she had taken, and the one she could never return to.

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Meanwhile, the estate she had left behind was in utter chaos. After the guard had returned, he realized he had been fooled. The Eldest Miss was clearly gone, and it would fall on his head.

Still, although he knew he would be punished, the Lian Clan had never killed a faithful servant. They most likely wouldn't do so now — at least, he hoped.

The estate lit up akin to the sun at high noon as every guard and servant was roused from their slumber. Every room was ripped apart, and more than one person in the estate was livid to the point of exploding.

Lian Chengwu, his robe a mess and his hair even more so, thundered down the clan path toward the guard who had made the report. Some of the elders were already there, listening in, but he would be damned if he paid them any sort of mind at this point.

"Where is my daughter?!" he roared, his voice loud enough to wake the dead.

"I say, calm down! Is there any need to be so loud?" Lian Baishi, the head elder, questioned.

Ignoring him, much to the elder's clear displeasure — evident by the deep frown that followed — Lian Chengwu grabbed the guard by his armor and lifted him as one would a sack of potatoes.

"Where. Is. My. Daughter?" he questioned again, his words murderously spaced, each syllable heavier than the last.

"Esteemed patriarch, I—I do not know... She—she was out alone... said she came out for a breath of fresh air. I—I didn't think—" the guard stammered, only to be cut off.

"You didn't think?" Lian Chengwu's voice dropped low and dangerous, practically oozing with the intent to commit a massacre. "My daughter is blind, just got engaged to someone she wasn't exactly leaping with joy about, happened to walk to the gate in the middle of the damn night, and you didn't think?"

"Double the search. No one sleeps until she's found," Lian Chengwu barked, his voice like iron and his eyes blazing like a furnace. "If harm comes to her, I will hold each and every one of you bastards accountable."

The estate surged to life, guards and servants running around as if they were trying to escape a fire. Lanterns flared, voices shouted over one another, and the once-still night filled with the noise of a household thrown into chaos.

It was now that Lian Baishi decided to speak again.

"Chengwu, you don't have the authority to give such orders without the council's consent," Baishi said, a cold smirk playing at his lips, as if he'd been waiting for this. "I say, if your daughter doesn't return... tsk tsk... you might just have to step down. After all, this is ruining the peace of the clan. That deal was a huge one, after all."

The more Baishi spoke, the more red Chengwu seemed to see. After mention of the deal, he couldn't take it anymore.

He rushed forward, jabbing a finger into Baishi's chest.

"Authority? Authority? Shut the hell up and stay out of my way, or by the ancestors, I'll show you authority!" he roared. "This is my damn daughter we're talking about. I don't give a demon rat's ass about authority. Stay out of my way, or I'll rip you apart!"

Baishi's eyes narrowed to slits. "Is that a threat?"

Tension filled the air, thick enough to choke on. It seemed, for a heartbeat, that someone might die tonight.

Before it could escalate, a guard came sprinting up.

"Patriarch, Head Elder — it appears she fled the city using the unmanned tower's rope ladder not too long ago. The tip came from a man who'd been tailing the young miss, hoping to rob her... until he saw her climb it."

And just like that, the tension broke — replaced by grim silence as the weight of the news settled on them all.

"Good... good..." was all Chengwu managed to say. The night had taken a toll on him. His nerves were a mess at the present.

"Form a squad, the best men we have, and find her. Bring her back to me at all costs, understood?" he ordered.

"Yes Patriarch!" the guard responded, not daring to slouch in the delivery of his response.

"Halt! One more thing..." Chengwu said. "The man that gave us the information... kill him. Hang his head on the gate of the clan. Understood?"

"Yes Patriarch!"