Feng Yuxin felt it first as a prickling at the back of her neck—a pair of eyes on her. She turned sharply, every muscle tensing, and found nothing but trees and the filtered sunlight.
“M—Master, aren’t the rumors true? They said the prime minister’s daughter can’t cultivate,” Wind Yi stammered, astonishment coloring his voice. “But she just—she killed a grade-one demonic beast, and she could even sense where people were. How…?”
What Wind Yi hadn’t expected was that the little beast she’d slain, though only labeled “grade one,” carried the strength of a Soulist at fifth rank or higher. On Tianyuan Continent, strength was divided into six great tiers—Soulist, Soul Sect, Soul Saint, Soul Lord, Soul King, and Soul Sovereign—each tier split into nine sub-levels. For someone without any soul power at all, to fell such a creature was unheard-of.
Mo Xuanye’s cold eyes, usually impossible to read, flickered with a sliver of doubt.
Feng Yuxin shrugged off the attention. There had been no one behind her; she needed to keep moving. The beast had choked on its last breath the moment her dagger pierced it. She pulled the blade free, reached in, and extracted the beast’s core—the small, pulsating kernel that could be used to advance cultivation.
She didn’t have soul power, so she couldn’t benefit from it herself yet. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t collect and store the cores for later.
The moment the core touched her palm, a sudden flare of light shot from the space between her brows. The core vanished as if swallowed by the light. Feng Yuxin’s eyes snapped wide, baffled.
Mo Xuanye and Wind Yi hadn’t seen the core disappear; they saw only the light blooming in front of her. At once Mo Xuanye’s expression sharpened, a rare astonishment uncoiling in his gaze. In his mind a phrase flashed, crisp and old as prophecy: Phoenix rises, the Red Luan stirs.
Feng Yuxin wanted to ask about the phantom phoenix that had appeared at her brow, but the sensation of being watched returned—subtle, precise—and she sealed her lips. She sheathed her dagger and kept going. Her assassin’s instincts told her the watcher meant no immediate danger; curiosity could wait.
Only after her figure had slipped beyond sight did Wind Yi dare to ask, “Master—do we follow?”
Mo Xuanye gave a single, low assent, but remained rooted where he was, lost in thought.
A while later, once she’d put some distance between herself and them and no longer felt the gaze, Feng Yuxin finally spoke aloud to the image at her brow: “What was that about the core just now?”
There was no spoken reply. Instead, a thread of emotion, bright and eager, brushed at her mind—a feeling of joy so clear it was almost a voice. It answered, wordlessly: Yes, that’s it.
The sensation was odd, but Feng Yuxin adapted quickly. If the phantom liked cores, then a plan took shape. “So you want me to find cores for you in this forest?” she asked.
The reply was an emphatic nod of feeling. The thought settled in her chest like a promise.
She was only about to question it further when that watched feeling crept back again. She clamped her mouth shut.
Mo Xuanye felt it too—an alertness in the woman ahead. Though she showed no sign of soul power, her vigilance alone piqued his interest, and the memory of that sudden light made him even more curious. He could not know, yet, what secret lay beneath the prime minister’s daughter’s quiet composure.
Feng Yuxin continued, meeting any creature in her path head-on and fleeing if numbers threatened to overwhelm. Without soul power she relied on speed and guile—her movements precise, efficient, the practiced gestures of someone trained to kill. It wasn’t flashy, but it worked. Even Wind Yi, watching from a distance, couldn’t hide his astonishment. The killing intent that clung to her unnerved him; he could barely form the words.
“She’s supposed to be from the prime minister’s household—the one forbidden to cultivate,” he said at last, incredulous. “How is she fighting like an assassin?”
Mo Xuanye’s gaze narrowed. Assassins struck fast, hard, and true. The way she dispatched beasts—swift, merciless—spoke of training Wind Yi hadn’t known she possessed. There were years he’d missed; perhaps more had changed about her than either of them knew.
“Go to Cloudpeak City,” Mo Xuanye said simply.
Wind Yi understood instantly. He couldn’t mask his own excitement. If anyone could explain the contradictions surrounding the prime minister’s daughter, it would be the scholars and cultivators at Cloudpeak. He had to know what had happened to her in the years he’d been away.
As they left, the watching presence faded. Feng Yuxin breathed a quiet sigh and pressed on—she had to get out of the forest.
She fed the phantom more cores as she went, and by the next day a voice cracked like lightning in her head.
“Finally—sick of this guessing game,” the voice declared. It was abrupt, and so loud in her mind that she nearly stumbled.
Feng Yuxin forced herself to remain steady. The voice, when it continued, was insolent and theatrical. “You scaredy-cat. If you want revenge you’ll need more guts than that.”
The phantom knew her intent to avenge—but of course it did. The previous owner of her body had left no secrets; without soul power, there had been no contract beast, no veil between Flesh and Familiar. Whoever shared a mind with you could read you like an open book.
Feng Yuxin drew a crooked smile. “What exactly are you?”
The response detonated with pride. “Not a ‘what,’ but a who. I am a phoenix—no, a divine beast! I am far above the common spirit beasts. You even know what a spirit beast is? I’m beyond that—a myth among myths.”
For a moment the phoenix—if that’s what it truly was—stammered and sputtered, trying to settle on its proper title. It became almost comical, but also exasperating.
Feng Yuxin’s amusement ebbed into impatience. “You’re part of my contract then? If you’re my contract beast, you’re my subordinate. Do you really talk to your master like that?”
The phoenix’s pride flared. “Not a mere beast—I am a god-beast! Call me ‘master’ if you must, for on this continent I am the pinnacle. Everyone may address me with honor.”
Feng Yuxin’s voice cooled like steel. “If that’s how you see yourself, then I don’t want you,” she said plainly. “Look for someone else to bond with. I won’t accept a contracted creature that doesn’t respect its own master.”
Arrogance sputtered on the other end of their silent exchange—but a phoenix’s outrage was a different thing entirely. The bargain had been struck, whether she liked it or not. Still, she refused to be browbeaten into obedience by a creature that liked calling itself ‘master’ more than it respected the person it belonged to.