Chapter Twenty-Eight: Escape

Dawn, that elusive thing, always arrived a little later than summer itself. Yet as the sun drew near the horizon, someone like Han Tanyi was fated to lie awake, sprawled across his bed, letting his thoughts scatter in every direction. He thought of his master, of butterflies, of Shui Linglong, and even of Shen Wansan. When a man has too many worries, life can never be easy.

“Hey, are you awake? We should get going!” Suddenly, Old Man Su’s voice rang out. Perhaps Han Tanyi had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed when the old man entered. Yet the words were clear enough to rouse him, and he rolled over and sat up. Only then did he realize that he’d fallen asleep the night before without even taking off his outer robe—a sign of just how muddled he’d been. He looked at Old Man Su with a trace of surprise. Indeed, such abrupt words left one bewildered, but there was no time for explanations. Seeing Han Tanyi’s sluggish figure, Old Man Su couldn’t help but urge him again, “Hurry up! The girl is waiting outside. Or do you plan to spend the rest of your life in a place like this?”

Han Tanyi had no good answer to that question. He was caught off guard, completely unsure of what to do, and could only mumble an “Oh” as he hurried to his feet. Like anyone just up from bed, he was still groggy—his eyes barely open, his steps slow and unsteady. Old Man Su, walking ahead, seemed fully alert, moving with unwavering purpose, as if he had foreseen every moment of this scene.

Stepping outside, the world felt utterly different. The chill of morning drifted in on the breeze; though the air was damp, his face felt almost dry, yet the cold was sharp and unmistakable. The last traces of sleep vanished with a shiver. Before him, a foggy haze stretched out, the sort of scene usually reserved for early summer, though here it seemed the season had arrived weeks ahead of schedule. The whiteness obscured everything—even direction was hard to discern.

He followed Old Man Su’s lead. The old man clearly knew the place far better than Han Tanyi did. And no wonder—he had, after all, inexplicably become the so-called Left Envoy. In just one day and night, more strange things had happened to the old man than to Han Tanyi himself, and he doubted he’d understand any of it soon. With that thought, Han Tanyi let his curiosity rest; for now, the most important thing was simply to leave. Even if a part of him was reluctant, as Shui Linglong had said, this place was not his. Where one comes from, one must return; such is the order of things. Besides, between the Qilian Sect and the Blue Lotus Cult, there remained tangled grievances yet to be resolved. The young man sensed that as long as both endured, fierce battles awaited, for hatred is slow to fade—a bitter truth known to all who wander the martial world.

“You’re here—quickly, let’s go! The guards are slack at this hour; if we wait any longer, it’ll be too late!” Around the next corner, a woman’s voice urged them on, tinged with anxiety. Han Tanyi immediately lowered his head, unable to meet her gaze. Shui Linglong was clearly impatient, but as she saw the two approach, her expression eased a little. She reached out and grabbed Han Tanyi’s arm, ready to pull him along. He hadn’t expected this, and whether out of instinct or discomfort, he stiffened—so noticeably that even Old Man Su, standing aside, sensed the awkwardness.

“What’s wrong?” Shui Linglong turned, her eyes searching his face. She saw his gaze fixed in confusion on where her hand grasped his arm. Realizing her own impulsiveness, she quickly let go, her cheeks flushing. Fortunately, the morning light was dim and the purple veil she wore concealed much of her embarrassment, yet the awkwardness between them could not be erased. Shui Linglong lowered her head even further, her voice barely audible: “Sorry, I—”

But she did not finish. Perhaps she herself did not know what to say. Those within the web can only sigh at their own helplessness. Old Man Su, by contrast, seemed far more untroubled by such matters. Watching their awkward exchange—such affairs of the heart are always the most inscrutable—it was best to keep one’s distance. Even if Han Tanyi’s heart was in turmoil, he could not voice it; after all, he was simply unused to such closeness, and the guilt upon his face suggested he felt at fault for causing her distress.

“Whatever it is between you two, save it for later. This old man is taking a huge risk. If the Cult Leader finds out, you, as his daughter, might earn a scolding or a beating at worst. But me—this could cost me my life. So please, don’t make things any harder, alright?” Whether out of genuine irritation or simply the pressure of their situation, Old Man Su prodded them to move along. And indeed, as the saying goes, even a tiger does not eat its own cubs; Shui Linglong would be safe, and even someone like Han Tanyi would be spared. The one left to suffer would be the old man himself. In the Blue Lotus Cult, such an escape could never be forgiven; someone always had to pay the price. Without punishment, discipline would fail. So Old Man Su’s anxiety was well justified.

Urged on like this, both Han Tanyi and Shui Linglong set aside their embarrassment. Dawn was nearly upon them, and in this lush season of spring, it was the perfect time for deep sleep—no wonder the guards of the Blue Lotus Cult were more lax than at any other hour, making this their best chance to escape. Indeed, the corridors were eerily silent, with only the soft gurgle of water beneath a small bridge breaking the stillness. The morning air was crisp and fresh, laced with the scent of flowers, a blend that was soothing to breathe.

Shui Linglong, the Saintess of the Blue Lotus Cult, knew every detail of the courtyard’s layout. She led them swiftly, never hesitating, and soon they reached the outer courtyard. Ahead lay a dense forest, the thick canopy blotting out what little light there was, casting everything in a dim, shadowy gloom. Yet even here, paths wound through the woods, paved with smooth river stones. Though the soles of their cloth shoes felt every unevenness, it was, in its way, a pleasure.

“Once we cross this bamboo grove, we’ll be outside the Blue Lotus Cult,” Shui Linglong said, turning to the two behind her. “Stay close. The bamboo paths may look simple, but without knowing the way, you could easily get lost!” She knew well the secrets of this bamboo forest. Otherwise, how could such a vast cult have remained hidden in the wilderness for sixteen years, unnoticed by all? The answer, she suspected, lay in these very woods.

Han Tanyi and Old Man Su followed closely, taking her warning seriously. For as soon as they entered the bamboo grove, a strange sensation pressed in on them. There was no wind, yet the bamboo leaves swayed as if buffeted by a breeze, the rustling sound rising and falling eerily. Even so, this was only the beginning of the strangeness. At one point, Han Tanyi glanced back and saw that the path behind had vanished into a thickening mist, obscuring everything, as if the fog meant to swallow the road itself. For mist to gather so densely at this hour, when it should have dispersed, was almost impossible. Yet when Han Tanyi paused to wait, he noticed something else—another inexplicable, unsettling phenomenon, which made the young man’s heart fill with dread.