The colossal, gilded scroll pulsed with harsh luster, casting sharp shadows across the farmstead. The low vibration sharpened into a grinding roar. From the heart of the radiant script, a spear of white-hot brilliance, thick as a cypress trunk, erupted. It lanced downward, aimed squarely at Su Mian’s turned back.
Jin Ruyue caught her breath, springing forward despite the ache in her ribs. Her boots skidded on loose pebbles, inches too late to interpose her body.
Su Mian merely blinked, raising a hand to shade his eyes, his battered bamboo sunhat tilting slightly. The hat, woven from simple river reeds, was adorned with faded, childish drawings: a lopsided depiction of a contented pig snuffling through a field, a scattering of plump, happy sparrows taking flight, and a winding brook painted in pale, sky-blue ink. It was an ordinary hat, worn smooth by countless sunrises spent among his rows of greens.
The celestial beam, charged with the power to unravel a soul, struck the brim of that humble hat. There was no explosion, no dramatic impact. Instead, the spear of light simply… dissolved. It unraveled like a spool of boiled thread in an eddy of wind, its searing energy shedding harmless flecks of amber. They drifted through the air, catching the sunlight, twinkling like a thousand freshly caught fireflies before vanishing into nothingness.
The colossal decree above, which had moments ago radiated an untouchable majesty, flickered violently. Its radiant script fractured, fissures spiderwebbing across its surface before it imploded with a sound like splintering glass. Shards of pale light rained down with the dry patter of autumn leaves, dissolving into the furrowed earth.
The sky above Azure Ink, once a roiling churn of indigo, cleared. The suffocating pressure evaporated, replaced by the dry heat of midday. A stray draft rustled through the broad leaves, carrying the scent of overturned loam and wild honeysuckle.
Su Mian lowered his hand, peering up at the now-empty expanse of sky. He frowned, a faint line appearing between his brows. “Such a fuss,” he mumbled, dusting a stray fleck of yellow powder from his sleeve. “Didn’t even get a chance to ask if they wanted tea.”
Jin Ruyue stared, dry-mouthed. The sudden silence was more profound than any roar. Her gaze shifted from the empty blue to Su Mian, then toward the scroll drying on the fence, where Yan Zhui’s flat, painted face contorted behind layers of dried wash. Her internal cultivators’ manual, which detailed every known celestial protocol and divine intervention, contained no entry for 'soul-siphoning beam casually shrugged off by farmer's sunhat'.
“Are you… unharmed?” she asked, voice thin and raspy.
Su Mian beamed. “Never better! Though I do wish they had kept quiet. The tender leaves bruise if startled by thunder. Come, the sun climbs fast; we ought to finish before the heat sets in.”
He retrieved his woven basket and the well-worn spade, setting to work with a cheerful hum. Jin Ruyue watched him dig, the scent of turned mulch and the methodical cadence of his spade settling her scattered pulse.
She picked up a second basket, hesitating for only a moment before joining him. The work was unfamiliar, her hands, accustomed to wielding enchanted blades, felt clumsy holding a spade. Su Mian, oblivious to her awkward grip, demonstrated on an adjacent stalk. “You must be careful with the roots, see? A clean break, like this. It keeps the earth healthy for the next planting.”
The afternoon stretched on in quiet rhythm, punctuated only by the dull thud of harvested heads into wicker and the drone of cicadas. Jin Ruyue found her eyes straying from the root crowns to Su Mian. The sun highlighted silver streaks along his temples, illuminating the steady squint he leveled at each pale stem. It was a life so utterly devoid of the grand, brutal struggles of the cultivation world, yet possessed of its own profound, unshakable peace.
She had come here to spy, to secure the Golden Dew for her masters, to ensure Su Mian’s proper 'ascension.' But with every shared moment, with every quiet instruction on root care, the lines of her mission blurred. The bitterness of her own existence, a constant battle for power and survival within the rigid celestial hierarchy, felt stark and meaningless against the simple sweetness of this life. Her throat tightened with a strange, gnawing ache. It was a longing for something she hadn't known she craved, a whisper of a future where her hands held soil instead of steel.
As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of apricot and rose, Su Mian straightened, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “There! Our finest yield yet,” he declared, gesturing to the brimming wicker hampers. “We’ll make a fine stew tonight, don’t you think?”
“A fine stew,” Jin Ruyue echoed. She studied his open, guileless smile, the sudden warmth in her chest laced with quiet sorrow.
Her intention set firm. She would abandon the sect. Her masters, the false heavens, their parasitic decrees—they meant nothing compared to the quiet warmth of this farm. She reached into her sleeve, her fingers closing around the cold, smooth surface of her communication jade. She had to destroy it, sever all ties, before she could truly choose this path. Her hand trembled, the jade pressing against her palm, preparing to crush the device into silent dust.
But just as she applied pressure, her fingers, still clumsy from the unfamiliar labor, slipped. The communication jade shot from her grasp, arcing through the air. It struck the hard-packed earth with a dull clink, skittering to a halt near Su Mian’s feet. A moment later, its polished surface flared with an intense, azure light.
An azure illusion flared above the stone, tinting the dirt violet. A dry, metallic voice cracked across the vegetable plots. [AGENT RUYUE, YOUR MISSION IS CRITICAL. ENSURE THE MORTAL, SU MIAN, CONSUMES THE GOLDEN DEW BEFORE DAWN. IT IS IMPERATIVE HIS SOUL IS PRIMED FOR IMMEDIATE REFINEMENT. DO NOT FAIL.]
The projection held for a long, agonizing moment, the cold, metallic voice hanging heavy in the air, before flickering out. The jade lay on the ground, inert once more, a silent, damning witness.
Su Mian stood unmoving, his spine straight. He bent without haste, lifted the stone, and balanced it carefully on the rim of the nearest wicker basket. Then, without a word, he walked towards the farmhouse. Jin Ruyue stayed frozen, fingers numb at her sides, ribs locking tight as she waited for recrimination. This was it. The truth, laid bare. She waited for his fury, his fear, his condemnation.
He reappeared a moment later, holding a small, polished wooden tray. On it sat two delicate, porcelain teacups, their rims painted with tiny, cheerful bluebirds. He walked to the rain barrel where he kept the vial of heavenly amber, the nectar he had preserved beside his grandfather's seed packets. He pulled the stopper; the viscous sap glimmered pale yellow as he tipped an equal measure into each cup.
He turned, his face illuminated by the soft, fading light. His smile was faint, touched by a melancholy that hollowed out her stomach. “I understand,” he said, his voice quiet, calm. “Will you drink with me, Jin Ruyue?”