The journey back from the gorge was a silent, wretched affair. The adrenaline of the fight had long since faded, leaving behind only the dull ache in Chenwei's muscles and the heavier, colder ache in his gut. He walked a few paces behind the others, his gaze fixed on the tableau of failure ahead. Xinyi, her face tear-streaked and stony, supported the weight of the wounded rogue. Each of their steps was a labored, awkward shuffle. They were a miserable pair, stripped of all dignity.
But it was Lianyi who was the true ghost. He walked, but his eyes were vacant, fixed on nothing. The vibrant, gentle spirit Chenwei remembered from the music hall was gone, replaced by a hollowed-out shell. A part of Chenwei felt a sharp, unfamiliar pang of pity for him, but it was quickly consumed by a cold tide of disgust. Disgust for the two lovers and their selfish, dishonorable affair. Disgust for the public shame they had brought upon the House of Zhou.
They stopped as dusk began to bleed into true night, the path ahead shrouded in shadow. The silence was thick with everything left unsaid. It was Chenwei who broke it, his need for action overriding the suffocating atmosphere.
"What now?" he demanded, his voice rough. He directed the question at Wen Yuhan, the only one who seemed unaffected by the day's horrors. "We are approaching the sect. What is the story we will tell?"
Wen turned to him, his face impassive in the gloom. "A practical question, Junior Brother Li. The truth, as it happened, is a political disaster. It shames a great house and makes our sect appear weak and plagued by internal strife. The truth is therefore useless. We require a new narrative."
Before Chenwei could voice his outrage, Wen continued, his tone that of a physician explaining a distasteful but necessary procedure. "The story for public consumption is this: a rogue demonic cultivator became obsessed with Lady Xinyi. To protect her family's honor from his vile intentions, she tragically took her own life. Her loyal handmaiden, in an act of profound bravery, was slain trying to defend her." Wen's gaze flickered to Lianyi's unseeing face. "Lianyi, in his grief, fought and defeated the villain to avenge them both. It is a tragedy, but it is an honorable one."
The sheer, calculated audacity of the lie stole Chenwei's breath. He was about to speak when Lianyi, who had been silent for hours, stirred. He gave a slow, minute nod, his eyes still fixed on that terrible, empty distance. Chenwei understood with a sickening certainty: Lianyi was not agreeing to save his own honor. He was agreeing to shield the woman who had broken him from the consequences of the truth.
It was then that Xinyi spoke, her voice resentful. "And what of us?"
"You will be presumed dead," Wen stated. "You will be given the silver and smuggled out of the province to begin new lives. In exchange, your silence is absolute." Her expression shifted into a complex, grudging relief. Then, she asked quietly, "That woman… my handmaiden… is she truly…?"
Wen nodded once. "Yes. Sorcery that allows one to assume another's form so perfectly requires the original's soul to be trapped and consumed. She has been dead since this began."
"No," Chenwei finally exploded, the word torn from him. "This is a monstrous lie. You would grant a heroic death to that… that thing? The creature who murdered children for power? You would build this fiction on a foundation of blasphemy?"
Wen sighed, a sound of profound patience tried by a stubborn child. "I am not honoring the assassin, Junior Brother. The assassin has ceased to exist. I am honoring the identity she stole. The world will remember the name of the real handmaiden, a loyal servant who gave her life for her mistress."
He took a step closer. "Furthermore, this narrative creates a debt of honor. House Zhou will be obligated to provide a generous pension to the real handmaiden's family for her 'heroic sacrifice.' They will be cared for." He locked his gaze with Chenwei's. "Now, tell me your plan. Shall we tell your 'truth' and inform that family their daughter was simply murdered and replaced, her death a meaningless footnote? Which path shows greater wickedness, Chenwei—the one that brings honor and comfort to a grieving family, or the one that serves only your own pristine conscience?"
Chenwei felt as if the ground had fallen out from under him. Wen had taken his righteous anger and twisted it into an act of cruelty.
"This was a professional assassination attempt on the third heir of this sect," Wen continued, his voice low and sharp. "It is the opening move of a campaign. If we announce the sordid truth, we cause a scandal and alert the conspirators that we are on to them. My story provides a clean narrative and allows us to investigate them in secret. Your idealism, Junior Brother, is a liability."
"I will not be a part of it," Chenwei bit out, his fists clenched.
"Your participation is not required, only your silence," Wen said, his authority settling like a heavy cloak. "As your senior, I am handling this."
Seeing the defiant fire still in Chenwei's eyes, Wen's expression softened into one of feigned reason. "I see you are not convinced. Very well. You will not act rashly. You will escort Lianyi back to the sect and you will report immediately to your master. Zhao Tiansheng will be fully briefed on the operational realities of this situation. You will listen to his counsel, and you will obey his instructions. Is that understood?"
It was a perfect trap. Chenwei was cornered by his own code of honor. He could not refuse a command to seek counsel from his own master. He gave a single, jerky nod, the motion feeling like a betrayal.
"Good," Wen said. He turned to deal with the practicalities of the two lovers, already moving on.
Chenwei looked at the broken figure of his martial brother, then back at Wen. The lie was a shield, yes, but it was also a smokescreen. A story this complex, this full of misdirection… it wasn't designed to protect the sect. It was designed to muddy the waters, to make a clear investigation impossible. He couldn't see how all the pieces fit, but he didn't need to. He knew, with a certainty that burned colder and deeper than his anger, that a righteous man would never think like this. This was the work of a master manipulator, and Chenwei had just been neatly put back in his box.