The courtyard gates rattled like a drum under a sudden burst of force. The night wind carried the metallic taste of killing intent.
Lan Xiyue moved swiftly through the shadowed walkways, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. He had felt that qi before — sharp, venomous, threaded with the faint musk of an alpha pushing his dominance to intimidate. Whoever had come was not here to talk.
The Jade Bridge came into view, its snow-covered span gleaming pale under moonlight. On the far side stood three figures in black. The leader — tall, broad-shouldered, eyes glinting like ice chips — raised a hand in mock greeting.
> "Sect Master's son," the intruder drawled. "Hand over the omega you're hiding, and I might spare your life."
Lan Xiyue's expression did not change, but the air around him tightened, his aura curling like a drawn bow.
> "You'll leave the way you came."
The leader's smirk widened, showing teeth.
> "Do you know who you're protecting? That omega carries a mark that—"
The rest was swallowed by the ringing cry of Lan Xiyue's sword leaving its sheath. A single slash split the night air, frost forming along the bridge railing.
Steel clashed in a blur. The intruder's companions leapt forward, blades arcing, but Lan Xiyue moved like a winter storm — precise, cold, unstoppable. Every strike carried the weight of disciplined cultivation.
From the safety of the room, Ruo Han felt the battle through the threads of his senses. The surge of qi outside made his own core stir — and worse, he could feel the faint echo of Lan Xiyue's heartbeat in his own chest. The pull between them sharpened, heat curling low in his belly despite the danger.
The door shuddered once. Twice. A third time. The scent of the intruder's pheromones seeped through, acrid and oppressive, making Ruo Han's pulse spike. His instincts screamed to stay still — but another voice, softer and far more dangerous, whispered:
He's fighting for you.
Outside, Lan Xiyue's blade caught the moonlight one final time before cutting through the leader's weapon with a clean, ringing note. The broken blade clattered to the ground, followed by the man's gasp as Lan Xiyue's qi forced him back across the bridge.
> "Tell whoever sent you," Lan Xiyue said, voice like frost breaking, "that if they come again, I will return their corpses in pieces."
The men retreated, melting into the night. Snow fell soundlessly in their wake.
When Lan Xiyue returned to the room, Ruo Han was standing — too close to the door, too aware of the echo still thrumming in his veins.
> "You opened it," Lan Xiyue said quietly.
> "Only a little," Ruo Han admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I… felt you."
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Lan Xiyue stepped closer, the cedar-storm scent of his qi wrapping around them both. His gaze lingered on Ruo Han's parted lips, then dropped to the pulse fluttering in his throat.
> "That… should not b
e possible," Lan Xiyue murmured.
And yet, it was.