The crimson light on the map abruptly vanished. Bai An scowled at the darkened air. “Pangzi, you gluttonous menace! Where did it go?” The finch preened an azure plume, a muffled burp popping in its throat. The floating diagram hung dim without its target. Jiao's room sat isolated—the assassin had struck. Cursing the disruption to his sleep, Bai An rolled off the mattress. He slipped cold soles into slippers, snatched an unadorned robe, and bolted through the threshold. Pangzi flapped up from the bolster, trailing behind him like a bead of blue fire. Elder Jiao’s quarters were not far, a small, unassuming dwelling tucked away near the eastern cultivation groves. Bai An hastened down the stone path, calculating every risk. If the pursuer was already on the scene, retreat was wisest, yet unmonitored killers made for miserable retirements. He skidded to a halt outside Jiao’s door, which hung ajar, a sliver of candlelight escaping into the darkness. A bitter tang of scorched sandalwood and ozone fouled the doorway. Bai An pushed the door open, his senses instantly assaulted. The room was cold, unnaturally so, as if the very warmth had been leeched from the space. Elder Jiao lay sprawled on his meditation mat, his face pale and slack. His eyes, usually sharp and keen, were glazed over, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. The circulating breath natural to an elder lay flat and dead. He was a hollow shell, desiccated and empty. Standing over the body, his shoulders heaving, was Lin Ye. His silver eyes, usually so composed, were wide with a raw, desperate frustration. “Jie Yuan! You came. I was too late. He was gone before I could even sense it properly.” Lin Ye’s voice was hoarse, edged with self-reproach. “The hound struck cleanly. I caught only the faint heat of spent Qi before discovering… this.” He gestured vaguely at the lifeless elder. Bai An stepped further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the scene. Lin Ye’s distress seemed genuine, but something felt off. Jiao's meridians were dry as ditch-water, yet an uneven vibration hummed near the skirting boards—not the memory of a departed spirit, but the weight of someone still breathing. “No,” Bai An murmured, his eyes narrowing. “You weren’t too late. It’s still here.” Lin Ye stiffened, his head snapping up, silver eyes darting around the room. “What? Impossible! The trail died out. He had to have fled.” “He did not,” Bai An muttered, pointing toward a blur along the plaster where the tallow flames wavered unnaturally. “The concealment talisman is still humming. He is waiting for witnesses.” As if on cue, the distortion solidified. A ripple, like heat rising from a desert road, intensified, revealing the outline of a figure. Instead of an armored revenant, there stood an ordinary youth draped in the coarse jade fabric of a novice. His face was blank, devoid of expression, but in his outstretched hand, a small, intricate jade charm pulsed with an ominous, cold light. “Anomalies,” the intruder droned, flat as unpolished tin. “The God-Kings have a message for you. Return to the cycle.” The talisman flared, vomiting high-heaven suppression far beyond any novice's rank. A crushing gravity broke across the floorboards to pin their marrow. Lin Ye cried out, stumbling back, his hands rising to shield his face, his silver eyes flaring with defensive spiritual light. Bai An weathered the pressure without bending, having parried sovereign lords in his prime. But an azure streak tore past his ear. Pangzi peeled off his collar, drawn by the smell of concentrated power. With a tiny, audible *smack*, Pangzi dive-bombed the Reaper’s outstretched hand. The fake student stumbled backward, losing his footing as wings battered his knuckles. Pangzi didn't just peck; it clamped its tiny beak onto the pulsing jade charm. There was a faint *crunch*, a sound far too loud for such a small bird, and the jade vanished, swallowed whole. **JOLT 1** The killer froze, staring at his bare fingers. The heaven-grade pressure evaporated at once. Deprived of its power source, the veil cracked and peeled away like boiled paper. He was indeed an ordinary-looking young man, unremarkable in every way, save for the sudden, naked terror that blossomed on his face. His pupils trembled, darting between the youths and the round finch roosting on Bai An's sleeve. Pangzi let out a contented, almost smug, peep. Its small chest swelled, and the azure glow intensified, radiating a soothing warmth. It had digested the celestial artifact with apparent ease. “My… my relic!” the assassin stuttered, all regal composure wiped out. The facade shattered, he was just a terrified boy. “It’s gone! How did… what was that?” Bai An pinched the bridge of his nose with an exhausted groan. “That, unfortunate soul, was Pangzi. He eats everything.” The interloper waited for nothing more. Stripped of his tool, he bolted. He didn't bother with elegant escape techniques, simply scrambled out the door and vanished into the night, a terrified shriek echoing briefly before being swallowed by the darkness. Lin Ye looked from the door to the iridescent bird. “It swallowed a high-tier relic? And the hound ran away?” Bai An offered a weary shrug. “Seems so. Honestly, I’m more concerned with the indigestion.” He eyed Pangzi with suspicion. Heavenly relics tended to create foul side effects. He did not need an explosively gassy finch. Yet the killer's retreat and Jiao's cold skin laid out the harsh reality. He had wanted to be left alone. He had wanted to fade into obscurity, to live out his new life in comfort, far from the machinations of the Celestial Court. Yet, here he was, staring at the corpse of a man who died because of the Court's relentless pursuit of *him*. They wouldn't stop. The Court would dispatch more hounds, more blades. They would hollow out this sect, this world, until they found him. They would kill everyone around him, not out of malice, but out of necessity, out of fear that he might expose their lie. His dream of a peaceful, responsibility-free retirement was a delusion. It was impossible. **JOLT 2** A deep, simmering frustration, unlike his usual lazy annoyance, settled within Bai An. He had tried indifference, and it had led to this. It had led to a dead man, a terrified Lin Ye, and a sect now vulnerable. If he truly wanted to be left alone, if he truly wanted peace, he couldn't simply avoid the problem. He had to eliminate it. Not with grand, heroic gestures, but with the most efficient, least effort-intensive methods possible. He had to deal with the God-Kings. And he had to do it in a way that wouldn’t drag him back into the rat race. Bai An looked at Lin Ye, whose expression was still a mixture of awe and horror. “Alright,” he said, a new, unsettling resolve in his voice. “Let’s get this over with. First, we hide the body. Then, we figure out where that dimwit ran off to. And for the love of all that is still breathable, try to keep that bird from eating any more divine instruments.” Lin Ye blinked twice, then an eager grin parted his lips, pupils catching the candle flame. “You’re finally in, aren’t you? I knew it. But… hide the body? Isn’t that a bit… crude?” “It’s efficient,” Bai An countered, already bending over Elder Jiao. “And less paperwork than explaining how an outer disciple drained an elder and then had his cloaking device eaten by a finch. Nobody would believe us. Now, help me move him. He’s heavier than he looks.” Bai An gave a mighty tug, and the elder’s surprisingly stiff body slid off the mat. He then paused, frowning. “Though, now that I think about it, where *do* we hide a body in a place like this?” He looked around the small, sparse room, then his gaze fell upon the only large, empty container: Elder Jiao’s prized medicinal bath, typically filled with rare herbs and waters for invigorating spirit. It was currently dry and surprisingly clean. “Oh, no, you wouldn’t dare,” Lin Ye whispered, a horrified realization dawning on him. Bai An merely raised an eyebrow. “It is spacious, dry, and nobody checks it till wash day. Now, are you helping, or are you just going to stand there looking horrified by my pragmatic approach?”

A Feast for a Finch