No Longer Sister

The Python King’s cavern had grown far quieter than before.

Pale blue light from the mineral deposits spilled across the cold stone floor, while the sinister chill that had once shaken even Hao Nhien’s Sea of Consciousness had faded into little more than a vague presence in the air. He still leaned against the cavern wall, his complexion not yet fully recovered after nearly a day of unconsciousness. From time to time, a dull ache pulsed through his Sea of Consciousness, reminding him that the struggle they had just endured had not been a dream.

Quan Nha sat beside him.

Hao Nhien watched her for a moment, then laughed.

“If what I did yesterday was foolish, then Sister Quan Nha isn’t much smarter than I am.”

She looked momentarily taken aback, clearly not expecting him to draw that conclusion after everything they had just discussed.

His expression softened.

“Quan Nha.”

She paused ever so slightly.

“If something like this happens again, don’t endure it alone.”

He looked directly at her.

“You still want to find your parents. You still want to know what happened back then. So until you find those answers, at the very least, don’t decide to die somewhere I know nothing about.”

Quan Nha did not answer.

Hao Nhien did not press her.

“I didn’t like following the blood of someone close to me up that mountain.”

He paused.

“And I definitely don’t want the next thing I find to be nothing more than a torn piece of clothing.”

The hand resting on her knee tightened. Only after a long while did she turn her face away.

“If there is a next time... I’ll try to tell you.”

Hao Nhien raised an eyebrow.

“Only try?”

She looked back at him, some of her familiar coolness finally returning to her eyes.

“Don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, but the pain in his Sea of Consciousness flared before the smile could fully form, turning it into a grimace instead.

Quan Nha noticed at once.

“Stop laughing.”

“I’m not even allowed to laugh?”

“It hurts my eyes.”

Hao Nhien had no reply to that.

At last, some of the heaviness inside the cavern eased.

He adjusted his position against the wall to lessen the pain. Quan Nha remained still for a while before shifting closer. The days she had spent fighting the influence within the inheritance had clearly exhausted her far more than she allowed her appearance to show.

Eventually, she rested her head against his chest.

The movement felt natural.

Yet both of them knew it no longer felt the same as before.

“Hao Nhien...”

“Mm?”

“I’ve always felt that you’re far more mature than your age.”

She looked up at him.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m the younger one.”

Hao Nhien fell silent.

He knew why.

His mind had never truly belonged to a seventeen-year-old boy. Too much from his previous world had shaped the way he thought, judged, and chose.

But it was not yet time to tell her that truth.

There was also another name, Anh Nhien, that he still had no idea how to explain to Quan Nha. At times, even Hao Nhien himself did not know how he was supposed to face emotions that were becoming harder and harder to separate.

And then there was Tieu Lan.

His promise to treat her better had never disappeared simply because of what had happened here.

Hao Nhien understood that clearly. That was exactly why he did not want to rush to give his current feelings any name.

But neither could he deny that Quan Nha had become important to him.

He tightened his arms around her a little.

Not because of Garuda.

Not because of anything called fate.

He had simply watched the woman in his arms fight against something that wanted to seize her will, and he did not want her to face that alone again.

Quan Nha remained quiet for a long time before speaking.

“If one day I lose control again...”

She hesitated.

“Don’t leave me alone.”

Hao Nhien looked down.

There was no Charm intent in her eyes now, only exhaustion and a trust she rarely allowed anyone to see.

“Then I’ll call Sister Quan Nha.”

She paused, then looked at him.

“You’re still calling me Sister?”

Hao Nhien blinked.

Quan Nha turned her face aside, her voice lowering.

“You don’t act like a younger brother.”

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He studied her for several breaths before saying simply,

“Quan Nha.”

She did not answer, but the hand gripping the edge of his robe tightened a little more.

The two of them did not leave the area immediately.

Hao Nhien needed time for his Divine Soul to recover, while Quan Nha also had to stabilize the inheritance she had just absorbed. Only once both were well enough to move did they return to the small cave beside the stream that had once served as their meeting place.

The Spirit Wings were still nowhere near capable of carrying an additional person over long distances. Hao Nhien only used them on steep slopes, across narrow ravines, or when he needed to reduce the force of a landing. For most of the journey, both relied on their movement techniques.

After watching him several times, Quan Nha commented,

“Better.”

“Was I not better before?”

“You fell off a mountain before.”

Hao Nhien turned toward her.

“You didn’t see that.”

“I didn’t.” Her gaze moved to the torn places on his robe. “But it wasn’t difficult to guess.”

He decided not to continue that conversation.

The following days were far quieter than everything that had come before.

Neither of them searched for new fortuitous encounters. Stabilizing what they had already obtained was more than enough to occupy the time remaining.

Hao Nhien needed to deepen his familiarity with the Spirit Wings and Wind affinity. Quan Nha focused on controlling her Charm Eyes while learning to distinguish the portions of the inheritance she could safely use from the influences that could still destabilize her.

One day, Hao Nhien brought her down into the stream.

Cold water flowed around their ankles.

“Don’t use your movement technique yet,” he said. “Stand still first.”

Quan Nha looked down.

“For what?”

“Feel the water.”

“Water isn’t wind.”

“But the way force flows through them has similarities.”

He stepped deeper into the current.

Water struck his legs, but his body barely shifted. Hao Nhien did not oppose the flow directly. He adjusted his center of gravity, avoided the strongest pressure, borrowed the force he could use, then redirected the rest through small changes in his hips and foot placement.

Quan Nha watched him for quite some time.

“How did you come up with this?”

“Fall enough times and eventually you learn.”

She clearly did not believe the full answer, but she did not ask again.

Quan Nha stepped into the stream.

A stronger current struck across her knee and nearly knocked her off balance. Hao Nhien caught her by the waist before she could fall.

Her expression changed slightly.

“That one doesn’t count.”

“All right.”

He agreed far too quickly.

Quan Nha immediately turned toward him.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“It’s in your eyes.”

Hao Nhien had no choice but to look elsewhere.

From that day onward, the stream became their training ground.

Hao Nhien continued refining the habit of activating the Spirit Wings only when they were truly needed. Quan Nha began with the water, then shifted her attention toward airflow, points of force, and the way an opponent altered their center of gravity.

She was not as fast as Hao Nhien, but after only a few days, he discovered something far more troublesome than speed.

Quan Nha could make him misread her movement.

During one spar, the tip of her foot clearly angled left, yet her gaze and aura made Hao Nhien unconsciously prepare to defend the opposite side. That half-beat of error was enough for her sword to brush past his shoulder.

He shifted his balance with the Spirit Wings, barely avoiding the strike before retreating.

“Anyone who fights you in the future is going to have a headache.”

Quan Nha withdrew her sword.

“Anyone fighting you will too.”

“Why?”

“Because they can’t hit you.”

Hao Nhien considered that, then nodded.

“Fair point.”

But movement was still not the most difficult part.

The real challenge came whenever the inheritance reacted.

During the first few days, whenever the aura within Quan Nha’s Charm Eyes slipped even slightly beyond her control, the Spirit Wings in Hao Nhien’s Sea of Consciousness would immediately respond with a sense of rejection.

The reaction was no longer as intense as it had been inside the Python King’s lair, but it had never disappeared completely.

Hao Nhien did not believe the conflict had been resolved. He was simply learning not to let that reaction decide his actions.

The same was true for Quan Nha. The imprint within her still remained. The difference was that she now held the initiative.

Beyond Charm affinity, she had also retained part of the inheritance’s knowledge concerning poison.

She could not freely create powerful toxins, and most of what she used during their spars was limited to weak poisonous vapor or fragrances produced from medicinal herbs. They were enough to slow the circulation of true qi for a short time without causing real injury.

Even so, Hao Nhien was caught more than once.

During one exchange, he had just avoided her sword and was preparing to counter when dizziness touched his mind.

The true qi within his meridians slowed for half a beat.

Quan Nha’s sword stopped at his throat.

She said calmly,

“Dead.”

Hao Nhien looked at the blade.

“When did you poison me?”

“When I passed on your left.”

“I didn’t smell anything.”

“If you could smell it, what kind of poison would that be?”

He sighed.

“Poison affinity really doesn’t play fair.”

Quan Nha lowered her sword.

“Your Wind affinity lets you move that fast. That doesn’t play fair either.”

Hao Nhien thought for a moment.

“Then we’re even.”

She laughed.

After being caught several more times, he began learning to use the airflow around his body to dilute or redirect poisonous vapor.

But Hao Nhien quickly discovered that the Spirit Wings did not make poison useless.

If he noticed too late, he would still be affected.

If he judged the direction of the current incorrectly, he could even guide the poison closer to himself.

Quan Nha’s fighting style also began to change. The Quan Family sword techniques had always been stable and controlled, but once they were combined with the Charm Eyes, poison, and her newly developed ability to manipulate an opponent’s reading of movement, they became far more difficult to predict.

The two improved faster together than they would have training alone.

But Hao Nhien never forgot that this was only the beginning.

The conflict between the two ancient imprints still existed.

They were only learning how to live with it.

One evening near the end of the examination, the two sat on a stone beside the stream.

Quan Nha asked,

“What are you going to do after we leave?”

Hao Nhien watched the water.

“Enter the inner sect first.”

“After that?”

“Stabilize the ninth layer, exchange for whatever resources I need, then prepare for Foundation Establishment.”

He stopped there, clearly unwilling to speculate too far ahead about the breakthrough. Quan Nha did not press him and instead brought up something else.

“In three years, there’s still the Grand Clan Secret Realm.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too.”

“If I want to find more clues about my parents, I need to enter.”

Hao Nhien nodded.

“Then we won’t be lacking things to do over the next three years.”

Quan Nha nodded as well.

“No. We certainly won’t.”

Before leaving the Spirit Beast Forest, Hao Nhien checked what he had accumulated.

The number of demonic beast cores inside his examination pouch had long since exceeded what he had expected when first entering the realm. The Gray Shadow Wolf pack alone had contributed a large number of points, not to mention the medicinal herbs and other spoils gathered along the way.

He did not know where he would rank in the end, but at least competing for a place in the top hundred no longer seemed like the same concern it had been at the beginning.

More important was his cultivation.

After days of continuous sparring and further adaptation to the Spirit Wings, the true qi within his dantian had advanced another step.

Hao Nhien had reached the peak of the ninth layer of Qi Condensation.

He did not attempt a breakthrough.

Foundation Establishment was a major realm.

He wanted sufficient resources, a stable foundation, and the right moment before attempting it.

Quan Nha had also made clear progress, though most of hers lay in her control over the inheritance and the increasing stability of her Divine Soul.

Whenever she opened the Charm Eyes, Hao Nhien could still feel his mind being pulled ever so slightly.

But the first thing he recognized in those eyes was no longer darkness.

It was Quan Nha herself.

That alone was already a major improvement.

On the final day of the secret realm, the light in the sky began to change.

Far along the horizon, a glow gradually appeared.

At first it was only a point. Then it expanded, until a massive teleportation gate finally condensed in midair.

Hao Nhien stood beside the stream.

Three months inside the Spirit Beast Forest were finally coming to an end.

Quan Nha stood beside him.

“Let’s go back.”

He nodded.

“Mm.”

The two left the stream behind.

They moved through the mountains using their movement techniques, with Hao Nhien only opening the Spirit Wings occasionally to cross ravines or change direction over difficult terrain.

Familiar places gradually receded behind them.

The stone marked by the long cut of the Invisible Wind Blade.

The bank where Quan Nha had nearly fallen into the stream.

The patch of ground beneath the tree where she had once lost control of the Charm Eyes.

Neither of them said anything more.

The teleportation gate drew steadily closer.

When only a few miles remained, Hao Nhien suddenly slowed.

Quan Nha noticed at once.

“What is it?”

He looked ahead.

Several figures stood beneath the glow of the teleportation gate.

All of them wore the robes of Tieu Dao Sect disciples.

But it was not their clothing that caught Hao Nhien’s attention.

It was where they were standing.

They occupied the most convenient route leading directly toward the gate.

None of them entered.

Nor did any appear to be preparing to leave.

The distance was still too great for Hao Nhien to make out their faces.

Even so, the sight was enough to slow his steps.

Those people were waiting for someone.