Chapter 14: Debt of Blood

                                     

Beneath Qiansi Cave lay a dungeon—crude, foul, and suffocating. A few wooden stakes formed makeshift cells, more than a dozen in all. The guards had fled, leaving behind only the cries of imprisoned children.

The stench was overwhelming. Twenty or so children had lived in this misery for far too long, their faces streaked with tears and grime, their features barely recognizable.

When Yun Wan appeared, they clung to the wooden fences, voices breaking with desperation. “Sister, save us!” “I want to go home, sister… help me!” “I want A‑Niang, I want A‑Die…”

Their pleading eyes pierced her heart. Yun Wan stepped forward, ready to smash the locks, but Xie Tingyun silently raised his hand. With a wave, the iron locks shattered.

The children surged out, chaos erupting in the cramped dungeon. “Don’t squeeze! Line up!” Yun Wan shouted, fearing a stampede. But panic drowned her words.

Her patience snapped. She slammed her fist into a cell wall, splintering wood. The crash silenced the children instantly.

“Don’t bark. Line up.” Her voice was cold, commanding.

Terrified, the children obeyed, forming two neat rows. Yun Wan nodded, satisfied. “Let’s go.”

But a small hand tugged her sleeve. A little girl with almond eyes, bright even through dirt, whispered, “Sister… a big brother was caught saving us. Please, save him.”

The other children chimed in: “Yes, sister, save him!” “He carries a sword, like this hero!”

Yun Wan hesitated, torn between reason and compassion. She turned to Xie Tingyun. “I’ll save him. You take them out.”

He frowned, clearly disapproving.

“I can’t protect them if danger comes. Take them first, then find me.”

Before he could argue, a hoarse voice echoed from the shadows. A young man staggered forward, robes torn and bloodied—a disciple of Jingyue Sect.

“It was my mistake. I’ll take the children. Please, save my brother.” He bowed, coughing blood.

Yun Wan waved impatiently. “Fine. I’ll save him.”

The man set a formation to guide the children out. Yun Wan and Xie Tingyun pressed deeper.

The “senior brother” was bound cruelly—soul‑lock chain through his collarbone, limbs shackled, a demon formation beneath his feet. His black clothes hung in tatters, wounds festering. His head drooped, hair veiling his face.

Yun Wan’s flame lit the scene. She knew the soul‑lock chain: a vicious weapon that eroded soul and sanity, leaving victims to die slowly, painfully aware.

Xie Tingyun broke the formation and tore the chain free. The man collapsed, trembling fingers betraying life still within him.

Gravel rained from above—the cave was collapsing. Yun Wan rushed forward. “Let me carry him.” She smiled, almost cheeky.

Xie Tingyun’s eyes darkened, but said nothing. He formed a teleportation array, whisking them out just as Qiansi Cave fell.

Outside, silence reigned. The half‑demons who had not fled lowered their weapons, mourning their fallen lord.

Yun Wan seized the moment. “Do you want to follow me? Food and lodging included, nine hours of labor, one day off a month.”

The half‑demons exchanged glances. She waved dismissively. “Forget it, if you don’t want to—”

“Owner!” they chorused.

Yun Wan blinked. “…So casual?”

Xie Tingyun dropped the rescued man beneath a tree, glancing at her. “Surprised?”

She was more than surprised.

He warned, “If you take them in, treat them sincerely. Half‑demons are simple, trusting. Betray them, and they’ll still swear loyalty, even unto death.”

Yun Wan grew thoughtful. “Then let them atone. Dahuang—send these children home.”

But the wounded Jingyue disciple protested bitterly. “They captured us! Hurt us! How can you trust them?” He summoned a vast formation, trapping the half‑demons.

The creatures froze, eyes wide, waiting for Yun Wan’s command.

She stepped forward. “Who did they obey?” “Spider Demon.” “Who ordered them to capture children?” “Spider Demon.” “Who hurt you?” “…Spider Demon.”

“Exactly. We killed the spider demon. We saved you, your brother, and these children. Why are you dissatisfied now?”

The man faltered. Yun Wan pressed, “What is Jingyue Sect’s creed?” “Do good deeds, keep peace, protect the people.” “Then persuading demons to change is good, isn’t it?”

Cornered, he relented, dispersing the formation. “Fine. But I’ll go with them.”

Yun Wan agreed. Xie Tingyun, reluctant, followed her quiet urging.

The disciple left with the children, but Yun Wan stayed behind with the unconscious man. She brushed his hair aside—and froze.

Moonlight revealed sharp features, thick brows, cold eyes. Chu Lin.

Her heart sank. Unlucky opens the door for unlucky—unlucky comes home.

Yun Wan stepped back in distaste. Chu Lin, half‑leaning against the tree trunk, looked tortured beyond recognition. His wounds bled freely; left unattended, even the so‑called male lead would not survive.

She sat nearby, arms folded, watching him die.

The night was utterly silent. Demonic aura still lingered faintly, mist curling around the stars and moon. Chu Lin groaned even in sleep, pain clawing at him.

If we hadn’t dragged him down, Big Brother wouldn’t have been arrested.

The little girl’s words echoed in Yun Wan’s mind. Her brows knitted. Chu Lin had treated the original owner cruelly, yet he had a righteous heart.

But…

Damn her!

In the novel, Chu Lin was arrogant, blind to all but the heroine. Yun Wan could forgive his indifference, but not his betrayal—casting the original owner to ghouls, condemning her to a tragic end.

She snorted, pulled a steamed bun from her storage bag, and gnawed it. But halfway through, Chu Lin’s ragged cough reached her ears. Blood pooled beneath him. The bun lost its flavor.

With a sigh, she tucked it away and approached. If he died, Jingyue Sect might blame her. But if she saved him, she could demand payment. Wealth was wealth—never to be wasted.

Cautiously, she poked him with a branch. No response. She wiped blood from his body with a handkerchief, then dampened it with medicine from her bag and pressed it to his wound.

Her touch was rough, the potion harsh. Chu Lin jolted awake, phoenix eyes narrowing. Pain blurred his vision, muscles tensed. Reflexively, he seized her wrist, flipped her beneath him, and strangled her slender neck.

“Who?” His voice rasped, breath uneven.

Blood dripped from his forehead onto her nose. His hair hung in blood‑stained strands, lips pressed tight, eyes sharp with killing intent. Then he saw it—the red mole between her brows.

He froze.

A surge of spiritual force struck his back. He flew half a foot, slammed into a tree, wounds tearing anew. He coughed blood, clutching his belly.

Yun Wan blinked, stunned. I… damn?

Xie Tingyun stood beneath the moonlight, cold and imperious, gaze condescending. Chu Lin’s scalp prickled under that aura. He bent, coughing again.

“Brother!” His junior rushed forward, ignoring his own injuries, glaring at Yun Wan and Xie Tingyun. “What is the meaning of this, Fellow Daoist? Why hurt my senior brother for no reason?”

Xie Tingyun’s eyes closed briefly. “If it doesn’t hurt me, I won’t hurt it for nothing.” He extended a hand to Yun Wan. “Come here.”

Two words, heavy with suppressed anger.

Yun Wan rose, dusting herself off, and moved to his side. “Send all the children back?”

“Mm.” His face was expressionless, but his displeasure was palpable.

She peeked at him, guilt gnawing. “If you have a kind heart, you’ll apply medicine to others.”

“….” His silence dripped with irony.

She bit her lip. “…He belongs to Jingyue Sect. If he dies here, they’ll blame me.”

Xie Tingyun studied Chu Lin’s face, then murmured, “Not bad.”

“Good? Nice where?” Yun Wan frowned.

“Jingyue Sect is rich.”

Her eyes widened, then she chuckled. “Xie Tingyun, you’ve turned bad.”

His lips curved faintly. “When you’re close to vermilion, you turn red.”

She loved the sound of that. Raising her voice, she declared, “It’s okay, it’s just that I was pinched. When his junior sister comes, let her pay together.”

“Compensation?” Chu Lin’s hoarse voice broke in.

“That’s right. We charge money for saving people. You and your junior brother—five thousand each. Ten thousand total. Not a penny less.”

Only then did Chu Lin realize the cave behind him had collapsed. Pain forced his eyes shut. “I was abrupt. I hope you forgive me.”

Yun Wan waved him off. “No need for nice words. Pay the money.”

“You…” His junior bristled, but Chu Lin silenced him. “Can you bring the spirit stones out?”

“I brought some, but…”

“Is ten thousand enough?”

The junior hesitated. “Brother, you know formation cultivation burns money…”

Everyone knew sword cultivators were poor. Array cultivators were worse—rare teachers, costly tuition, endless materials, failures wasting fortunes.

“I think we should wait for junior sister,” the younger muttered, sitting beside Chu Lin.

Yun Wan tossed them a medicine bottle. “Here. Use it.”

The junior applied it carefully. The bleeding stopped instantly.

“This also needs money?” Chu Lin asked, realization dawning.

Yun Wan arched a brow. “Otherwise, I give it for free?”

The brothers fell silent. Never had they met such a bluntly mercenary woman.

Still, the medicine worked. They huddled together, pitiful in their wounds.

Yun Wan leaned toward Xie Tingyun, smug. “Do you think I’m bad?”

“Fine.”

Fine? That meant bad. She pinched his waist, pouting. To outsiders, it looked like shameless flirting.

Chu Lin’s junior muttered, “Strange taste. That girl is greedy, selfish, not half as cute as my junior sister. I don’t know what he sees in her…”

Chu Lin looked up. Yun Wan’s face was ordinary, save for the mole between her brows. Girls like her filled the streets. Yet something about her felt familiar—too familiar.

As if she knew him… and hated him.

Maybe last time was a misunderstanding.

He closed his eyes, waiting for his fellow disciples.

At last, Qin Zhiyan arrived with reinforcements.

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