"Sister… not to bring you further strife, but—may I ask your name?"
I held her gaze, not letting my expression waver.
She blinked, then offered a small, polite smile.
"Oh, that's quite alright. I am Liú Hǎi, daughter of Liú Yún—the third lord of the Ocean Lily Trading Group," she said, her voice calm but clear.
Her hands moved into a familiar gesture—similar to what the guard had done earlier when greeting his senior brother. Yet there was a distinction. Instead of a closed fist and an upward-facing palm, her flat hand pressed perpendicular to her fist, formal yet elegant.
Mimicking her, I repeated the gesture and dipped my head slightly.
The formalities here are different… is there a meaning behind the position of the hand? I mused silently. Since she didn't comment on my copying it, maybe this is how people of equal status greet each other. And when the flat hand is lower… perhaps it's for someone of higher rank?
My face remained expressionless, slightly pale, as it had been ever since I awoke in this strange world.
"Sister Liú Hǎi… if you're the daughter of a merchant group, how were you kidnapped? Shouldn't you have had guards?"
I asked calmly, my tone measured. Maybe I wanted to gauge her reaction. Maybe I just needed a distraction from the overwhelming unfamiliarity pressing in from every direction. I wasn't sure—maybe both.
She hesitated.
"Well… I did have guards," she admitted, eyes lowering. "But the Ocean Lily Trading Group isn't exactly large. We had one first-rate martial warrior and a few third-rates. But the ones who ambushed us… they weren't just any bandits."
Her voice grew tighter, and I saw the faintest tremor in her lips. Was it fear? Anguish? Hate?
"They were from one of the Ten Wavered Bloodlines—the Adar family. Unlike bandits who practice martial artist's, the Adar don't fight . They slaughter. It was… only natural."
"I see," I murmured, brow furrowing slightly. "But… what exactly are the Adar? And how are they different from martial artists?"
She went still, staring at me as if, for the first time, she truly realized how lost I was. How clueless.
"I am the village lunatic, remember?" I said softly, bowing my head. "The master's mystic alchemy has hazed my mind. Forgive me, Sister Liú Hǎi."
"No, no, it's quite alright," she said quickly. "It's unfortunate that your memories were affected, but… your lunacy seems to have quieted."
She let out a short, breathy laugh. Then placed her fingers—slender, too smooth for someone in rags—thoughtfully against her chin. Even through the grime, her skin bore the signs of someone pampered… the only daughter of a merchant lord, after all.
"Well," she began, "the difference is… the Adar are cultivators. Not martial artists. They have bloodlines—some inherited from the ancient Jing Dynasty, sects and their will-harvesting formation now a distant echo of history lost forever , others awakened through beast-will condensation elixirs."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Cultivators walk a path too mysterious and unfathomable for us mortals. Martial artists, on the other hand, train to incubate their soul seas through sheer effort. Or so my father used to say."
She nodded to herself, eyes closed as if rehearsing something long memorized.
"Hmm… I see," I said, lying back down on the cold stone floor. "We should probably rest."
I shut my eyes.
A moment later, I heard the soft rustle of Liú Hǎi settling beside me.
The cave fell into silence, save for the distant drip-drip of condensation and the slow flicker of a dying fire. Breaths rose and fell—some shallow, some deep. One in particular came from the entrance. Rhythmic now. Sleep-heavy.
The guard.
He was truly asleep.
I slowly sat up, careful not to disturb Liú Hǎi. She lay beside me, curled slightly, her white hair spread like tangled threads across her too-fragile frame. Her clothes, once fine, were now a sickly, dirt-brown hue.
Rising silently onto the balls of my feet, I padded toward the cave entrance. The slope was steep, the stone biting cold against my skin.
To the right of the entrance, the guard slumped against the small indented spot in the wall hidden from sight at least from within the cave , still dressed in white—his chest rising and falling in steady breaths.
I turned my eyes forward, into the dark tunnel ahead. I remembered fragments from my brief visit with the master.
I began to move.
The tunnel was grey, narrow, and unwelcoming. The rocky floor scraped against my soles with every step, sending a stinging sensation up my legs.
But I pressed on.
Quietly. Purposefully.