The next morning, Ji Chun rose from bed, flexing his stiff arms. Seeing daylight streaming through the windows, he hurriedly dressed in his slightly chilled robes before gathering Su Ran's clothes. As he sat on the edge of the bed, Su Ran stirred awake, brows furrowing against the light. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, attempting to speak only to produce a hoarse croak. After clearing his throat, he pushed himself upright.
With practiced care, Ji Chun helped Su Ran dress and don his shoes before moving to the door. Outside, servants stood waiting respectfully. "Second Master," one ventured, "has Master risen? Shall we prepare his washing supplies?"
Ji Chun, gradually acclimating to the Demonic Cult customs, nodded. "Bring warm water and towels to the chamber." The servants bowed and scurried off, returning shortly with basins and linens before discreetly withdrawing.
Once they had washed, Ji Chun hesitated, uncertain how to proceed—until Su Ran tugged his sleeve. "Come," he said, voice still rough with sleep. "I'll show you where I train."
They walked side by side through the compound, passing sect members who bowed deeply. While Ji Chun remained unaccustomed to such deference, Su Ran accepted it as his due. Their path wound past courtyards and pavilions until they reached the back mountains—a breathtaking landscape of mist-shrouded peaks and flower-strewn fields. Farmers tilled terraced plots in the distance, a scene so idyllic it clashed starkly with the Demonic Cult's sinister reputation.
Ji Chun gaped. "This is...?"
Su Ran smirked, preempting his thoughts. "Also part of our territory. Those are families of our members." His grin turned smug. "Not quite the den of bones and bloodshed you expected, hmmm?"
Ji Chun's lips curved at Su Ran's proud expression. "Indeed," he agreed warmly. "More a paradise than a stronghold. And its sect leader far more beautiful and kinder than the rumors claim."
Su Ran snorted but squeezed Ji Chun's hand, leading him down a forested trail to a cave entrance. "Our leaders train here," he explained. "The ice within enhances cultivation without harming the body."
The cavern's interior glittered—walls, floor, even the ceiling sheathed in perpetual frost. At its center stood an ice bed, while the surfaces bore intricate carvings of martial forms and meditation techniques. The air carried a crisp, energizing chill that invigorated rather than numbed.
As they explored, Su Ran suddenly asked, "What do you think of my sect?"
Ji Chun blinked at the non sequitur. "It's... remarkable."
"Then..." Su Ran's smile turned playful. "Shall we bring Ze'er here after this is over?"
Ji Chun paused. This was Su Ran's home—where his roots ran deep. Why should they let outside prejudice dictate their lives? The Demonic Cult people had shown more integrity than many so-called righteous factions.
"Yes," he said at last, imagining their son playing in these very fields. "We'll fetch him together. Bring him home."
Su Ran's eyes lit up—then abruptly dimmed. A wracking cough doubled him over as he clutched his chest. Beads of sweat bloomed across his brow, tracing the sharp lines of his face as his body shuddered with unseen agony.
"Su Ran!" Ji Chun's heart lurched as Su Ran suddenly clutched his chest, his body convulsing with violent coughs. Ji Chun barely caught Su Ran before he collapsed, the man's entire frame trembling violently in his arms. Cold sweat drenched Su Ran's ashen face, tears of pain streaking down his cheeks as he gasped between whimpers.
"Su Ran! What's—" Ji Chun's voice cracked. He couldn't waste a second. Cradling Su Ran against his chest, he channeled his inner energy into his legs and sprinted toward the sect grounds, his robes whipping behind him like panicked wings. Su Ran's agonized moans scraped against his ears, each one a branding iron to his heart.
Sect members scattered as Ji Chun barreled through courtyards, his face twisted into something far more terrifying than Su Ran's famed wrath. When no one moved to help, the dam of his restraint shattered.
"Fetch a physician!" he roared, not breaking stride. "Now!"
He burst into Su Ran's chambers and laid him on the bed, but Su Ran only curled tighter, his beautiful features contorted. "It hurts..." The whimper tore through Ji Chun like a blade. He seized Su Ran's hand, tears blurring his vision—how gladly he'd bear this pain himself.
Servants clustered uselessly by the door until Ji Chun's glare sent them scrambling. Minutes stretched like hours before a physician finally shuffled in. The old man's diagnosis came with a trembling bow: "Master is poisoned. I fear... it's fatal."
Ji Chun saw red. "You incompetent—!" He barely restrained himself from striking the man. "Are you the only physician here? Bring the rest!"
More healers arrived, each examination ending the same way: poisoned, hopeless. Their whispers seeped beyond the room, drawing elders and hall masters who shoved past the threshold wailing, "Master!"
Ji Chun whirled on them, his voice a thunderclap: "What good are your cries? Can you cure him?" The crowd recoiled from the monk's uncharacteristic fury—this gentle man now radiated lethal intent.
Their kneeling apologies were cut short by a wet gasp. Su Ran had propped himself up on one elbow, blood trickling from his lips. With the last of his strength, he rasped, "Ji Chun... acts with my authority. Disobey him..." His arm gave out, consciousness slipping away as Ji Chun lunged to catch him.