Friends

Special Affairs Bureau training grounds, evening.

The setting sun was blood-red, staining the sandy ground of the training field a dark gold.

Hua Yin knelt on one knee, his Tang Blade planted before him. His chest heaved violently, sweat streaming from his temples and jaw like rivulets, splattering into the dry dust and leaving dark spots.

His special training vest had long since been soaked through, clinging to his body and outlining his lean, increasingly defined muscles.

Fresh and old bruises and red welts covered his arms, shoulders, and calves—proof of his "intimate contact" with Bai Ye's unpredictable short staff over the past several days.

The Gravity Spirit-Pattern Rings still clasped his limbs tightly. Their dark red glow had dimmed somewhat beneath the sweat, but the crushing sense of restraint constantly reminded him of his limits.

Bai Ye stood three meters away with his arms folded, his short staff resting casually on his shoulder. His expression was blank, but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, sweeping over Hua Yin's every subtle movement and breathing rhythm.

"That's enough for today."

Bai Ye finally spoke, his voice even. "Your spiritual energy circulation is much smoother than yesterday's, and your blade form has become more stable under the weight. But your reaction to attacks from the side is still too slow."

"Your timing with Lost Butterfly has improved, but you're using too many of them. It wastes too much spiritual energy. We'll continue tomorrow."

With that, he turned and left without the slightest hesitation.

Hua Yin took a deep breath and slowly straightened up.

He pulled out his Tang Blade and sheathed it before reaching to remove the hateful yet indispensable gravity rings from his wrists and ankles.

As the clasps came undone, the mountain-like pressure vanished abruptly, replaced by an almost weightless lightness—and the soreness and stabbing pain that came from overworked muscles.

He flexed his stiff limbs, feeling the steady pulse of the White Butterfly phantom within him despite its considerable expenditure, as well as the increasingly condensed spiritual energy flowing through his meridians.

The barrier to the Peak Meridian-Opening Realm was becoming clearer and clearer, as though only a thin veil stood between him and it.

His improvement was undeniable, but Bai Ye's training truly was inhuman.

Sun Haoran and Zhao Tiezhu had completely "fallen in battle" after holding on for two days. They claimed they needed time to heal their physical and mental trauma and vowed not to set foot in Bai Ye's training grounds again anytime soon.

Just as Hua Yin was about to wash up and return to his dorm to continue cultivating, the phone on the bench by the field rang.

He walked over and picked it up.

Qing Wuyan's name flashed on the screen.

After a brief hesitation, Hua Yin answered. "Hello?"

"Hua Yin! It's me, Wuyan!"

Qing Wuyan's voice came through the phone, as bright and lively as ever. There was some noise in the background, as if he were outside.

"You free? Let's grab a meal! The usual place, that beef noodle shop. My treat! Haven't seen you in a while. I missed you!"

Hua Yin glanced at his bedraggled, sweat-soaked state, then felt the hunger in his stomach. After a moment's thought, he agreed. "All right. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Great! I'll wait for you!"

Qing Wuyan happily hung up.

Hua Yin put away his phone and headed briskly toward the showers. The warm water washed away his sweat and exhaustion, calming his boiling blood and combat excitement somewhat as well.

After changing into clean casual clothes and casually brushing back his still-damp hair, he left the Special Affairs Bureau.

The beef noodle shop was as plain and bustling as ever.

It was mealtime, and the place was packed with nearby residents and office workers getting off work. Voices filled the air, along with the mouthwatering aroma of food.

Qing Wuyan had already claimed a small table for two in the back. Two bowls of the shop's signature beef noodles, with extra meat and eggs, sat on the table, red with chili oil and sauce and steaming hot.

The moment he saw Hua Yin enter, he waved excitedly. "Over here!"

Hua Yin walked over and sat down.

Qing Wuyan looked him over from head to toe, then grinned. "Not bad, Hua Yin. You look a little more built again! The Special Affairs Bureau must feed you well, huh? But your complexion... was training that brutal? I heard about it from others. It sounds downright inhumane!"

Hua Yin picked up his chopsticks and gave a quiet "Mm." He did not elaborate on the training and began eating.

The hot broth filling his stomach did ease his post-training exhaustion and hunger.

Qing Wuyan slurped his noodles while launching into conversation.

He mostly talked about interesting things at school—which teacher had made a fool of himself again, which classmate had embarrassed themselves, whether the basketball team had won or lost, how absurd the mock exam questions were... He rambled on and on, full of everyday warmth and a teenager's trivial worries and joys.

Hua Yin mostly listened in silence, occasionally responding with a word or two.

This kind of simple conversation, untouched by supernatural powers or life-and-death battles and concerning nothing but ordinary schoolwork, gave him a strange sense of relaxation.

It was as though he had returned to his high school days, when all he needed to think about were grades and part-time work. Life had been poor and oppressive then, but he had still possessed simple goals.

Qing Wuyan was good at conversation. He kept the topics flowing without prying too much into Hua Yin's specific duties at the Special Affairs Bureau.

He mentioned Lin Qingqiu, saying she seemed preoccupied lately and had been studying even harder.

He mentioned that he had heard Chen Xu had been arrested, and how some people in class had subtly changed their attitudes.

He even mentioned that the owner of the convenience store where Hua Yin had once worked had changed...

The atmosphere at the table was relaxed.

Though Hua Yin did not speak much, his expression was far gentler than usual.

Qing Wuyan's noisiness and enthusiasm were like a rough but warm cloth, temporarily wiping away some of the bloodiness and coldness clinging to Hua Yin.

Halfway through the meal, Hua Yin felt he had drunk too much soup. He rose and said, "I'm going to the restroom."

"Go ahead, go ahead!"

Qing Wuyan was in the middle of an animated story and waved him off.

Hua Yin passed through the crowded diners toward the narrow restroom beside the noodle shop's back kitchen.

The instant his figure vanished around the corner, Qing Wuyan's exaggerated smile and animated expression receded like the tide.

He put down his chopsticks, his movements becoming gentle and precise.

His gaze swiftly swept the surroundings—no one was paying particular attention to their table. The owner was busy, while the diners ate, drank, and chatted among themselves.

Qing Wuyan leaned slightly to one side, as though merely adjusting his posture. His arm "accidentally" brushed against Hua Yin's coat draped over the back of the empty chair beside him—a plain dark gray hooded jacket.

His fingers slipped naturally into the side pocket of the jacket, the movement smooth as though he had performed it hundreds or thousands of times.

His fingertips touched several loose items: a few coins, a meal card for the Special Affairs Bureau's internal cafeteria, and... a ring with a warm texture and an ancient design.

Qing Wuyan's fingers paused on the ring for less than half a second. He did not take it out, only touched it lightly to confirm its existence and texture.

Then his fingers went deeper. At the edge of an inconspicuous inner compartment in the pocket, he gave it an incredibly slight flick with his fingernail.

His movements were so fast they were almost impossible to see. A tiny, faintly glowing speck slipped from his own sleeve and silently slid into the edge of the compartment Hua Yin's jacket pocket, which had been pried open by a tiny gap. It lodged between the fabric and the lining.

Once he had finished, his fingers swiftly withdrew. He casually straightened the edge of the pocket, restoring it to its original state.

The entire process took no more than three seconds.

He sat upright again, and the expression of someone waiting for his friend to return immediately reappeared on his face, with a touch of bored, idle glancing around. He even picked up his teacup and took a sip, as though nothing had happened.

Several seconds later, Hua Yin returned from the restroom.

"What took you so long?" Qing Wuyan laughed. "I thought you fell in!"

Hua Yin ignored the teasing, sat down, and continued eating his noodles.

The two chatted for a while longer, mainly Qing Wuyan talking while Hua Yin occasionally chimed in.

The atmosphere seemed no different from before.

When it was time to pay, Qing Wuyan rushed to settle the bill. "I said it was my treat! You're earning a salary now, so next time you can treat me to something big!"

Hua Yin did not insist and simply nodded.

By the time they left the noodle shop, night had fallen deep. There were few pedestrians on the street.

"All right, I'm heading out first. I still have to go back and do two sets of practice papers. The miserable life of a senior-year student!"

Qing Wuyan stretched and waved at Hua Yin. "Take care of yourself too, Hua Yin. Don't push yourself so hard! Let's hang out again sometime!"

"Mm. Be careful on the way."

Hua Yin replied.

Whistling, Qing Wuyan turned and melted into the night, quickly disappearing from sight.

Hua Yin stood alone before the noodle shop as the night wind blew over him with a chill.

He put on his jacket and headed toward the Special Affairs Bureau.

Inside the pocket's inner compartment, the tiny speck Qing Wuyan had planted gave off neither light nor energy fluctuations beneath the cover of the fabric. It lay there quietly, as though it did not exist.

After Qing Wuyan turned the street corner, the smile on his face vanished completely.

He took out his phone, quickly typed a message, and sent it.

[Prepare to act.]

After sending it, he deleted the record.

He looked up at the faint outline of the Special Affairs Bureau building in the distance, his eyes dark and unreadable beneath the night.

Friends...?

He smiled soundlessly, with no warmth in that smile.

Then he turned and disappeared completely into the city's darkness.