The sun had long slipped past its zenith by the time Yan Shen found land.
He'd been flying for hours low, steady, gliding close enough to the waves that the spray sometimes misted his face. The ocean had no end, only rhythm.
He had stopped trying to measure distance; there was only the pulse of wind and the faint ache still lingering in his bones. The fight with Qin Shuren had done damage it had left fractures deeper than flesh. His body had recovered to what he estimated as eighty, maybe eighty-five percent efficiency. Enough to move. Enough to fight. Not enough for growth.
When the first strip of green appeared on the horizon, it didn't feel real at first. Just another mirage of cloud and reflection. But as he neared, the air changed warm, heavy with the scent of damp soil and salt grass.
The island was small.With a volcano on one side. No villages no people, just nature...
Perfect.
He descended slowly, the soles of his boots sinking into cool, wet sand. For the first time since the duel, he felt the ground hold him.
He exhaled, a slow, measured breath, then let his body fold into stillness. His heart, which had been a drum of survival for days, began to quiet.
The sea hissed behind him. Wind rattled the palms. He turned inland
He headed towards the heart of the island - the vulcano
He flexed his fingers once. The ache in his joints answered with a dull pulse. Even his smart atoms,those miraculous microscopic engines that obeyed his will were sluggish now, their efficiency dampened by something heavier than fatigue. The wound to his soul was a weight pressing on their function; even his alien biology couldn't rewrite spiritual damage.
Still, stone yielded easily under his strength. He struck the base of the vulcano once, twice, carving away rock with palm-heels that carried the a quiet precision. Dust rose, mingled with the scent of salt.
In half an hour, he had a hollow five meters deep, three wide, barely a shelter, but good enough. He lined the floor with dry fronds, built a low barrier of stone at the entrance, and sat.
He listened to the ocean's slow heartbeat and the faint pulse of his own. Inside his chest, his Qi swirled sluggishly, as if moving through thick oil. The part that had been bitten away by Qin Shuren's soul art had left a cavity, a hollow echo he could still feel when he breathed too deeply.
He knew enough to understand what that meant.
No technique, no meditation could regrow a soul alone. His body could mend flesh and bone. But this?
He would need external help, a spiritual medicine, perhaps, or an artifact designed to restore essence. Without it, that emptiness would never quite close. It would sit there forever, a silent weakness.
And that means he wont be able to breakthrough in his cultivation
He hated that thought
Only when night fell and the world cooled did he remember the weight in his palm. The jade ring that Elder Mai had thrust into his hand before everything broke.
He held it up to the dim light spilling through the cave mouth. It looked ordinary,a simple loop of pale jade, faintly translucent, carved smooth. But when he pressed his will into it, the surface shimmered. The inner space opened before his mind's eye like a door.
A small exhale escaped him.
Inside, the pocket realm stretched about six meters long and two across, a neat rectangular vault of light, its edges lined with faint golden runes. And within it
Wealth.
Rows of low-grade spirit stones, hundreds of them, stacked neatly like pale river rocks that glowed faintly from within. A smaller pile of mid-grade stones beside them, dozens, not hundreds, but still more wealth than any wandering disciple would ever touch.
Bundles of herbs wrapped in waxed leaves. Ceramic jars sealed with wax sigils. A small chest of silver-gray pills that pulsed with spiritual energy he couldn't identify. Tools. A few scrolls, rolled tight and bound in dark silk. Even a short sword, its sheath lacquered black.
He blinked.
For a long time, he said nothing. Then, quietly:
"…So this is what she meant by you'll need this."
Shen turned one of the spirit stones over in his hand. The light inside it flickered like a trapped breath. The Qi was clean, neutral, not aligned to any element. Perfect for recovery.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
If this was Elder Mai's doing, then she'd planned further ahead than she let anyone see. Maybe even before the duel. Maybe she had seen the Sect's fall coming.
He set the thought aside. Speculation wouldn't feed him.
Yan Shen stacked some stones carefully beside him, arranging them in a rough circle, and placed one of the unfamiliar pills in his palm. The scent that rose from it was sweet, earthy, but carried an undertone that made the edges of his vision pulse faintly.
Not poison, but potent.
He hesitated.
Then, quietly: "Trust the hand that saved you."
He swallowed it dry.
The effect was immediate.
The pill didn't burst or burn; it dissolved like mist spreading through his veins. The Qi within it was gentle but vast,a reservoir that unfolded into layers, each colder and cleaner than the last. His body absorbed it slowl, grateful, his smart atoms responding with renewed hunger.
Yan Shen settled into a meditation posture, spine straight, palms open on his knees. The sound of waves became a metronome for his breathing.
In.
Hold.
Out.
Qi began to circulate. The spirit stones around him pulsed faintly, their light syncing with the rhythm of his breath. Threads of energy drifted from them, flowing toward his body like streams toward a lake.
Shen guided them slowly, deliberately. Down the spine. Across the meridians. Into the dantian.
At first, it was resistance, like pouring water into a cracked vessel. The soul wound was still there, leaking. But as he persisted, the flow steadied. The wound didn't close, but it throbbed with life again, like scar tissue learning to breathe.
He lost track of time. The ocean's rhythm faded. The world narrowed to breath, pulse, and light.
When he finally opened his eyes again, the night was spilling over the sea. That session lasted a full day. His limbs felt heavier, but clean. The dull ache in his chest had softened to a manageable weight.
Yan Shen exhaled, long and slow.
ninety percent, maybe creeping toward ninety-five.
Still wounded. Still alive.
He leaned against the cave wall, eyes half closed, letting the new day wash over him. The image of the Sect's destruction flickered behind his lids,the collapsing barrier, the mountain's peak igniting, Qin Yulan's broken body.
He remembered Elder Mai's last words.
Lanlan and Suyin are safe. Run.
Were they truly safe? Or had that been a lie meant to force him to flee? He couldn't know. The jade ring was proof she'd meant him to survive, but the rest…
What about my parents... No no no! I need to trust Lanlan she wont leave them
Shen rubbed a hand over his face. The air smelled of salt and smoke, though there was no fire.
The Sect was gone. The life he'd built within it, gone.
He was a fugitive now, hunted by the most powerful woman he'd ever known, his body half-healed, his soul damaged.
And yet, somewhere deep beneath the exhaustion, a faint ember of something steadier burned.
Relief.
For the first time in the last months, there were no eyes watching him. No sect rules. No hierarchy of power pressing down on his back. The world was open again, vast and dangerous and utterly his.
He stayed on that island for three days.
He hunted fish with a sharpened branch, built a small fire pit with a friction spark, and dried his clothes on a line of twisted vines. When the rains came, he collected water in stone hollows, filtering it through sand. His body adapted easily, efficiently. His mind followed slower.
Each night he sat by the shore, meditating with a ring of spirit stones glowing faintly around him, guiding his Qi into slower, deeper cycles. The wound in his soul stopped bleeding and started knitting itself together, stable, a clean scar instead of an open cut.
On the third morning, as dawn broke, he stood at the edge of the surf, arms crossed.
His reflection stared back, hair matted with salt, eyes clearer than they had been in weeks.
Yan Shen flexed his hands once, feeling strength coil beneath the skin. Almost perfect, and recovering. His smart atoms pulsed faintly under the surface, efficiency now fully recovered.
He turned back toward the cave. The jade ring rested in his palm again. He pressed his thumb to it, feeling its quiet hum. Somewhere inside that small pocket of light lay everything he needed to begin again, resources, tools, and the reminder that someone had believed he'd survive.
Shen smiled, faintly, the expression unfamiliar.
"Then let's survive properly."
The ocean answered with the crash of a wave.