CHAPTER 221: TO LIVE AND ATONE

We used every last vial carefully, pouring out measured drops of life-giving medicine for the kidnapped victims in the cave networks wholly separate from where we came out of.

But even as injuries knitted, bruises faded, and breath steadied, their eyes remained hollow. Fear lingered, refusing to let go.

I caught sight of bruises darker than simple violence, patterns on wrists and ankles, haunted stares that flinched away from any man's gaze. My stomach twisted, something bitter and sharp rising in my throat. Even my gentle approach drew quick, terrified gasps from the women until I finally stepped back, jaw clenched, fists helpless at my sides.

"Tianyi," I murmured softly, turning to the butterfly girl hovering silently nearby. "Please… do what you can for them."

Her eyes, large and luminous, met mine and nodded. Without a word, she drifted forward, wings folding gracefully behind her as she knelt beside the women. Her presence was gentle, soothing, a balm unlike any medicine we carried. The women didn't flinch from her touch.

Turning away, heart tight, I busied myself with what I could do; alchemy. Gathering scattered herbs from the edges of the clearing and whatever salvageable scraps the bandits' camp offered, I set to work. My palm hovered, qi flowing into a faint, glowing cube of interlocking rings, the Alchemical Nexus. I began drawing essence from petals, leaves, and roots.

I poured the tea carefully into small bowls, steam rising in delicate curls. The scent was mild and calming, an anchor to ease frightened nerves and slow racing hearts. Tianyi accepted the first bowl and gently helped the most shaken woman sip from it.

Through it all, Han Chen watched. His broken wrist now hastily bandaged, his bruises darkening beneath pale skin, he looked hollowed out, lost in his own spiraling guilt.

Then one of the women saw him clearly for the first time.

Her eyes widened, pupils shrinking in terror, then anger flooded her face. "You!"

Han Chen jerked upright, as if waking from a nightmare.

"It's your fault!" she screamed, voice raw and broken. "You let them—this happened because of you!"

Another woman sobbed beside her, trembling violently. "You brought us here. You monster!"

Their voices cracked like thunder, drawing everyone's attention. The air thickened with rage and grief. Stones flew, more cries erupted. Jun Tao moved forward instinctively, but I raised a hand, stopping him.

THWACK!

Han Chen didn't move. Blood trickled from his temple as a stone clipped him, but he didn't flinch. He just lowered his head, silently accepting the pain.

I moved forward quickly, placing myself between them, voice firm but gentle. "Enough. Please."

The women hesitated, bodies shaking, eyes red with tears and fury. Han Chen's shoulders shook, but he didn't speak, didn't beg for mercy.

"Get him away from us," one woman spat bitterly, voice trembling. "I can’t—"

I nodded quickly, quietly stepping towards Han Chen and gripping his shoulder.

"Come," I murmured softly.

He rose slowly, eyes hollow and empty, letting me guide him away from the group. Behind us, the muffled sobs continued, sharp and jagged. He stumbled once, twice, but didn’t stop until we were well out of sight, standing alone beneath the shadow of a tall, scarred tree.

I let go, stepping back slightly. The silence stretched painfully between us.

"I didn't know," he finally whispered, voice thick with anguish. "I swear. I didn't… I would never—"

Han Chen’s voice broke, the words falling like splintered wood against the silence. He sank heavily to his knees, head bowed low. "Kill me."

The plea was so abrupt, so hollow, that for a moment, I couldn’t fully register its meaning.

"What?"

"Kill me," Han Chen repeated, firmer now, his eyes fixed on the dirt. "If there's any justice left in this world, take my life here and now."

My jaw tightened, fists clenched reflexively. He didn't see it, didn’t look up, just stayed hunched as though waiting for an executioner's blade.

"Please," he continued, voice strained by grief and exhaustion. "My junior brother, Yu Long, he’s committed no sin. If my death can pay for even a fraction of the pain I've caused… promise you'll help him. That's my only request."

His words felt impossibly heavy, each syllable grinding into me like stone on stone. I stared at the broken man kneeling in front of me, and a deep weariness settled into my bones.

Tonight alone felt like it had taken years from me. Every choice, every step, leading to someone’s life or death. Renshu Bao. The nameless bandits crushed beneath the rubble. Lives I’d ended directly or indirectly, justified or not.

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Hadn't I already played judge and executioner today?

Renshu Bao’s blood still clung to Tianyi’s wings. I’d nodded. Just once. And that man’s head rolled from his shoulders like it was inevitable. Like I was meant to decide whether someone lived or died.

I ran a hand over my face, fingers scraping at the grime, the blood crusted at the corners of my mouth. My breath came slow and ragged.

I met his eyes.

"No."

Han Chen’s head snapped up, frustration flickering through his eyes. "Why?"

I met his stare evenly, forcing myself to hold the weight of it. "Because dying would be the easy way out. You think your death brings justice to those women, to your brother, to anyone? It won't. Your death won't change what happened—it won't heal their pain."

His face contorted, anguish deepening every crease, eyes glistening with barely-contained tears.

"If you want to atone," I continued softly, "then live. Bear the weight of what you've done every day, and spend every moment making amends—even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts."

He stared at me, disbelief warring with despair. But something deeper stirred behind those haunted eyes: understanding. Maybe even a faint glimmer of hope.

I turned away slightly, releasing a slow breath.

"Now," I said quietly, but firmly, ending the conversation. "Gather whatever supplies remain from the hideout. We'll leave shortly for Gentle Wind Village."

For a moment, Han Chen remained motionless. Then, slowly, he rose, wiping dirt and tears from his face with his sleeve. Without another word, he turned and began walking back toward the ruined camp, carrying the burden of his choices on shoulders far heavier than before.

By the time the sun crested over the jagged cliffs, the valley was a different place.

We’d packed what remained of the Red Maw’s spoils; several crates of stolen goods, half-filled wagons, and a pair of carriages, most in disrepair. The horses were lean and skittish, likely pilfered over the weeks from travelers too slow to defend themselves. Jian Feng had one hand on a worn saddle as he directed Jun Tao and the others with quiet precision, his calm efficiency keeping things moving.

It was Han Chen who proved unexpectedly useful. He moved like a ghost, guiding us to nearby depots tucked into mossy hillsides, half-hidden beneath brush or loose stone. Unmarked caches of weapons, food, and more pills. None guarded.

No need for guards when your whole cave network was a deathtrap.

Tianyi remained with the victims, flitting quietly between them. Her hands glowed faintly with qi as she worked to mend what healing vials could not. At first, I’d worried the sight of her wings might unsettle them. But they didn’t recoil. If anything, they leaned toward her. Perhaps because she looked like a girl and not a man. Or perhaps because she didn’t speak. Just listened.

She wasn’t comfortable.

I could tell from the tension in her shoulders, the way her antennae curled tightly. But when I asked, she only nodded, the barest flutter of her wings brushing my arm.

“For now, I will stay.”

Windy was asleep around my neck, now large enough that he coiled twice around my shoulders and once around my arm for good measure. His breathing was slow and deep, tongue occasionally flicking out in little spasms. Every now and then, his tail twitched reflexively, like a dream was dancing just beneath his scales.

I didn’t mind the weight. It grounded me. In a way, it was the only weight I could bear right now.

From my seat on the cracked stone near the cave’s edge, I glanced toward Jian Feng. He was speaking to the Verdant Lotus disciples, their expressions tight, their eyes drifting warily toward Han Chen, who stood apart from the group, staring blankly toward the trees.

We'd already heard the full story.

The Iron Palm Sect was gone, just as we theorized. Destroyed by cultists, he said. No warning. No survivors but him and his brother. They’d attacked in silence, like smoke slipping through cracks. Not a frontal siege. An erasure.

That detail haunted me.

Because it meant there was a strategy. A pattern. They were dismantling sects one by one. And while doing so, they still diverted forces to strike the outskirts of Crescent Bay, provoking the rest of the region in their pursuit of Phoenix Tears.

Why?

We still didn’t know.

And then there was Han Chen’s descent. Trapped by fatigue and responsibility, fleeing with his junior brother in tow. When the Red Maw came upon him, he fought. Repelled them. But not forever. He was forced deeper into the caves, cornered. Where he met Renshu Bao.

And made him an offer. Closer to an ultimatum.

Be the fist of the bandits. And in return, Yu Long would be kept alive.

Dosed with just enough medicine to survive... but never enough to recover.

A leash disguised as mercy.

And Han Chen took it.

Every time I looked at him now, I didn’t see strength or righteousness. I saw a man who’d carved pieces of his soul away, one compromise at a time, until there was almost nothing left but the shape of a fighter.

But even now, he worked.

He never spoke. Never rested. Just moved crates, packed tools, checked the horses. He avoided everyone’s eyes, especially the women. Every time one of them passed by, he lowered his gaze and turned away.

I didn’t pity him.

But I understood the shape of what he’d become.

We began our journey back not long after.

The horses took to the road with a strange kind of urgency. Ears flicking back, hooves striking the earth in restless cadence, like they too wanted to escape the stink of that place. Even the most temperamental of them obeyed our reins without protest. No doubt they’d been beaten, forced to haul bodies and loot through the gorge long enough to know the taste of fear. Now, with us, they moved easier. Freer.

The pace was slower than when we’d come. Understandable, given the number of wounded, the weight of goods, and the condition of the roads. But with the horses pulling well and the weather holding steady, we’d reach Gentle Wind within two days. Maybe less.

No one spoke much.

Even Jian Feng had gone quiet, riding just ahead with his gaze fixed forward, hand resting on his sword pommel more out of habit than expectation. The Verdant Lotus disciples trailed behind the carriages in silence, their faces unreadable.

And me?

I sat atop the lead wagon, reins in one hand, Windy draped around my neck like a living scarf, his coils rising and falling with each breath. His warmth seeped through my collar. A comforting pressure. Familiar.

Too familiar.

That thought sat with me longer than I liked.

I’d gotten so used to them; Tianyi and Windy. Even the Verdant Lotus disciples.

Their presence. Their strength. The way they filled in the spaces I couldn’t.

I’d leaned on them without thinking. Without asking.

I thought back to how easily I’d said it.

'Help Jian Feng. Tell me once everything's clear.'

Just like that.

As if they were extensions of me, not people of their own.

I didn’t ask if they were ready to fight. If they were afraid. If they wanted to.

I just assumed.

Because I needed them to.

Because they were mine.

The realization made my gut twist.

Was I no different from Renshu Bao in that moment? Sending others ahead. Trusting them to do the bloody work while I calculated the next step.

I shook the thought off, but it lingered.

This wasn’t the same.

But maybe that’s what made it dangerous; how easily the line blurred when the cause felt just, when the danger seemed urgent, when your friends were strong enough to bear it.

I closed my eyes briefly, the rhythm of the wagon jolting beneath me.

I hadn’t even asked Tianyi how she felt after the kill.

She hadn’t said a word, just folded her wings and followed me. No complaint. No judgment. No expression.

And Windy, still young, still growing. I’d let him sink his fangs into men twice his size and crush bone like it was nothing.

I told myself it was necessary.

But was that all it took now?

Necessity?

Windy stirred slightly, his head nudging under my chin in his sleep. I rested a hand gently on his coils.

No.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care.

It was that I was starting to think like someone who assumed they could carry all these burdens alone. By distributing the weight across the backs of those I trusted most.

I tightened my grip on the reins.

My stomach roiled with a sick kind of heaviness, like I’d swallowed guilt and it was curling into nausea at the base of my gut. I kept breathing, slow and shallow, trying to ride it out.

'What was right? What was wrong?'

Was it as simple as who held the blade, or who gave the order?

I closed my eyes.

Tried to rest.

Tried not to think of the way Tianyi looked at me sometimes. Not with fear, never that... but with a kind of quiet waiting. As if she knew I’d ask something of her again. And she'd do it. Not because she had to. But because she chose to.

And wasn’t that the part that made it worse?

I sighed. Let my head tilt back against the worn wood of the bench. The sky overhead was pale with cloud cover, a soft grey that felt like sleep. The wind had gone still. Even the birds were quiet.

Then I felt it.

A drop.

Soft, cold, and sudden; landing just above my brow, trailing slow down the side of my nose.

I opened my eyes.

Another drop hit my cheek.

Then my shoulder.

A gentle pattering, scattered across the canvas of the wagon. A few murmurs rippled from the rear, too low to catch.

I looked up.

Rain.

But...

My eyes narrowed.

The droplets weren’t clear.

The one sliding down my forearm left behind a faint streak. Stained.

A deep violet.