“Interesting. Interesting. Go back; I just heard a funny joke is all.” Ziyou Maque waved at the three madlander cultivators, who went back out the door with confused faces.

“You’re not joking.” The gang leader said. “I’ll be there. Let’s see what you got planned, Young Yung.”

“Then we have a deal. I expect you to bring your best force when I get the foxmoths because, honestly, I have a gut feeling we’ll need it.”

“Wait, wait.” Youjin Chao cut in hurriedly, “Then what of our training? The sect recruitment?”

“Of course, we’re gonna do that, lad.” Ziyou Maque clasped a bone bracer on his left arm, “Even if you bring an army of guards, that ain’t surefire protection in the Warring twilight forest. Even a bug, a flower, or a twig can kill you if you step on it wrong. It’s a fiend’fested meat grinder, and sometimes that meat is renyao. We need to train you up nice and good. It’ll be a shame if Young Yung takes a meridian building cultivator like me only to die because he touched the wrong moss.”

Ziyou Maque laughed. Yung didn’t know what he found funny. So he decided to take that army of guards anyway.

***

Chun hurried back to the clan citadel. She reached the carp ponds by the main house’s courtyard and found the man she sought.

“… and he gave us a week. Well, four days now.” Chun finished narrating the events.

The man stood tall and straight, his wiry frame belying his inner strength. His skin was smooth and youthful, yet his raven eyes betrayed a deep well of wisdom. His features were similar to Chun's, almost androgynous in his softness, but his tall and lean frame, chiselled jawline, and small scars on his hand hinted at a life of fierce battles and hard-won victories. His long hair was tied to a semi-top-knot, which then cascaded down like a ponytail. He wore simple yet authoritative Youjin-coloured clothing, a thin sword at his waist, and a dim gold woad arm brace. Though he appeared to be in his thirties, his hardened gaze spoke of a life lived longer and harder. With a distinct scholarly air, like a poet living an ascetic lifestyle, most would not be able to guess that this man was the clan's only residing peak tier foundation building cultivator, at the 12th stage and just nigh of forming his core.

Youjin Liu, Chun’s father and the current patriarch of the Youjin clan.

He had just returned after weeks away from the city because of kingdom politics, mainly concerning the upcoming phase one of the sect recruitments. And he would have been gone longer if not for Chun’s very sudden and very costly sound transmission explaining the situation.

“And the fox yao?” Youjin Liu asked. His voice had a weight to it as he mentioned the hegemonic power. But to his daughter’s ears, they sounded tired.

“… Ziyou Yung gave no promises. It’s like he read every thought and emotion I had.” Chun said.

“What did Gangkai think of him?”

“A cautious yet audacious boy. The elder doubted we could lure him with money or beauty. Ziyou Yung is a fanatic.”

“He wants to turn the madlander slum into his religion. That much should be obvious.” Youjin Liu said. The soft wind ruffled his long hair. Chun noticed the scar the previous patriarch gave her father down his neck.

If only that bastard… no. It matters not now. He’s dead and gone. Good riddance!

“But we are fortunate he at least offered a solution for the Dim gold foxmoths. If you can convince him to speak well of you to Fairy Su, you can also respite from the Duan.”

“I…I’ll try.”

“Chun’er… You don’t have to tread this path—”

“I must! I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have left Elder Brother Chao!” Chun said remorsefully. She had no reason to hide her true feelings from her father. “I didn’t listen to you. I thought I knew better.”

Only a few months ago, the Youjin Clan uncovered who gave the previous patriarch the unorthodox technique to syphon life force from the dim gold foxmoths five years ago.

It had been the Baishui clan, under the command of the Westmoon capital’s Duan clan. And both clans served the Malignant moon sword sect, a powerful sect and a rival power of the Twilight blood palace.

The man Chun left Youjin Chao, her adoptive brother and former fiancé for, was none other than the third legacy disciple of the Malignant moon sword sect, Duan Louheng.

Duan Louheng knew his clan's hand in the matter. He hid it from her. He said his clan did it to bless their union! To solidify the alliance. He took advantage of Chun's disdain and disobedience at the time toward her fiancé, who she thought was tying her down.

Duan Louheng beat Youjin Chao to the edge of his life a year ago, and Chun did nothing. She revelled in it.

Only the Youjin clan’s strict rules on premarital coitus and her traditional upbringing stopped Chun from sharing the Duan heir’s bed that night.

The next day, Youjin Chao gave in and requested the patriarch to annul the engagement. Youjin Chao was no longer her loving childhood friend. Youjin Chao went to the madlander slums.

Later, when Chun learnt how the Duan clan helped the previous patriarch with that demonic technique, the same technique that almost took her father's life, she was shocked, betrayed, and heartbroken. It was like she had snapped out of a haze. How could she have been so cruel to the man who loved her the most! She begged Youjin Chao for forgiveness, but her ever-so-kind Elder Brother Chao was no longer the same man.

There were no pills for regret. But she would try.

Youjin Liu sighed, then walked to her. He gently brushed a petal that had fallen on Chun’s head. “It won’t be easy. You already promised to join the Malignant moon sword sect despite your eldest uncle telling you not to. Unless the Twilight blood palace takes you in, no other sect will.”

“I don’t care. I was hoodwinked like an idiot. I will take responsibility for my mistakes.” Chun said, the hatred in her eyes boring past the horizon as though to pierce her enemies. “I must make it up to Elder Brother Chao, even if it costs me my life.”

“Foolish girl. The Duan heir treasures you. I sense no lie in that. And it was the previous patriarch’s fault that he failed to break through. Not even the Duan clan could have predicted that our Youjin’s foxmoths had a yaoguai and that it would strike the previous patriarch precisely when he was the most vulnerable.” Youjin Liu could see the denial on Chun’s face. She was too stubborn for her own good.

He could only say, “This is politics, my dear daughter, and the Duan had extended a helping hand when the previous patriarch asked for it. They had proposed an alliance through marriage. It wasn’t your fault that it fell through. And it wasn’t your fault that I almost died trying to stop that man from wantonly killing our precious foxmoths, and neither was it the Duan’s.”

Chun said nothing. Youjin Liu knew he could not change her mind. So he finally showed a smile. “I pity the fate of the Youjin clan. And I don’t want you to suffer.”

Chun hugged her father, who stood by her side even if she was spoilt and self-centred. Sometimes she wished her parents had disciplined her more. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have—

No. It’s my fault. I can’t blame it on them.

It was her responsibility she ruined her happiness. Now it would be her responsibility to fix it and get Youjin Chao back.

***

Yung and Youjin Chao exited Maque's dojo slash residence and were making their way back. They had decided to move the excursion date after the meeting with the Youjin patriarch. Yung planned to use that as a chance to scout out the area where the foxmoths hid. As for his promise to Chun,

Hehe, let’s throw them a curveball.

Su Xiya was playing with Silky, trotting ahead.

But as they were about to leave the gate, Youjin Chao turned around, “Brother Yung, that was not part of the plan.” His face was unreadable, with only that slight friendly smile.

But his empathic link was not.

Anger? Disappointment?

What do you want, Youjin Chao? Yung pondered this question. He had guessed by now that Youjin Chao was using him to get to Su Nanya. Yung did not mind. People could have motives and still be nice to each other.

And at least Youjin Chao’s altruistic acts towards madlanders weren’t a lie. Yung liked that.

But there was more.

“What was the plan then, Brother Chao? You never mentioned that you’d be bringing me to Uncle Maque’s, the leader of the Free sparrow gang. One would expect a prior notice.”

Youjin Chao looked at him, that calculating look back in his eyes. “You’re right. I apologise for that.” The older boy suddenly perked up, looking behind him.

On the field of the dojo, a fight had broken out. Two groups of madlander children, probably six to ten years old, went at each other like no tomorrow.

“Break up! Break up you runts!” An older kid shouted, but he was overpowered.

The instructors weren’t around. The one madlander cultivator that was, was eating a meal while looking at the spectacle with interest. It was the same person Youjin Chao had waved to before.

She sat on a pile of broken dummies, wearing traditional madlander garbs. They reminded Yung of old Manchurian tribal clothing. But less stuffy, more practical. And her facial features were a reminiscence of the big bad gang leader he'd just met. Her hair was a beautiful mix of black and silver, intricately braided together and reaching just beyond her shoulders. Her face was striking, with high cheekbones and a small, upturned nose. Her deep brown eyes sparkled with life and were set under slightly bushy brows, giving her a lively and vibrant appearance. As she watched the fight, they reflected her excitement, with each pupil shaped like a tiny moon or an earthen disc of magic.

She picked up a cob of corn-like veggies to bite. Yung had never seen teeth so white and pearly, but they were uneven in that cutesy asymmetrical way, only adding to her endearing charm.

The kids each wore garbs with moss brown and blackish-grey colours.

“What’s going on?” Yung approached the cultivator. Youjin Chao followed, not pursuing the earlier topic. Perhaps because his eyes lit up when his gaze crossed the madlander woman’s, but then the older boy looked away with a tangled expression.

“Kids, fighting’s what they do.” The woman said, wiping her hands. She saw Youjin Chao’s averted eyes and scoffed. “The Grey sparrow cohort wanted to use the training dummies to practice their low kicks. The Brown sparrow cohort also wanted to use them to practice high kicks. There’s only ten dummies, but twenty kids.”

“Can’t they share?”

The woman laughed, “They’re kids; sharing isn’t what they do. Each cohort will join a separate fiendhunting team in the future. So some competition between them now ain’t such a bad thing. It’ll foster loyalty and teamwork.”

This woman seemed to be an expert on what kids could and couldn’t do. And her accent was nice on the ears.

“You got any kids home?” Yung suddenly asked, and the woman and Youjin Chao recoiled like they were stung by ants.

“Now, that’s a large thing to say for a first meeting. You’re that madlander Youjin kid who got scouted by the fox clan.” She looked at Youjin Chao again with expectant eyes.

Yung nodded. He wasn’t a kid. He was a teenager.

"The name's Ziyou Ling." The woman said to Yung, but her eyes were on Youjin Chao. "You hitting on me or something?"

Su Xiya screeched, running back and biting Yung’s pants, trying to drag him away.

“Floofy? No! Bad fox. I’m having a conversation here. Let go.”

Su Xiya did not. Yung was no match for the fox. The empathic link read… betrayal? The heck?

So he did the only thing he could. He picked up the fluffy thing and floofed her until she calmed down.

“I am not hitting on you. But yeah, that question was weird. Oh, the fighting stopped.”

"U-huh, no need to feel shy." Ziyou Ling winked knowingly at Yung, "Who do ya think warmed your friend's bed when he got dumped? I'm great at romancing!"

“Hey now,” Youjin Chao joked back. But his smile was strained. “You won’t be able to get married at this rate, Aunty.”

“Why this brat!” Ziyou Ling picked up a broken dummy’s head and threw it. Youjin Chao moved out of the way.

In the dojo yard, things calmed down. It seems some of the rational ones thought diplomacy to be a better situation. Two kids from both sides made rough shouts and body gestures.

One got pissed and backhanded the other.

“They’re fighting again,” Yung said, picking up the dummy head. It was almost round and was the size of a small watermelon. He threw it on the ground. It bounced up.

“Oh. What’s this made of?”

“From unused fiend leather.” Ziyou Ling had Youjin Chao in a headlock, her nonexistent buxom suffocating the cripple rather than sending him to heaven. “The bits and pieces that can be fit nowhere, but perfect for training dummies. Can take a hard clobbering before ripping.”

Yung concentrated on his heart palace dantian. A steady trickle of xinqi appeared there every second or so. It was minuscule and would take decades if Yung wanted to depend solely on this to reach the next cultivation stage.

But it was an extra, totally passive income. From that one talk at the restaurant on Yung’s inexperienced, second-hand audiobook knowledge on love, sex, and relationships.

“This won’t do.” He said, “This ain’t democracy.”

“What?”

“Can you gather the kids, Miss Ling—”

“Just Ling. I ain’t no fancy young lady.” There was a spice to her voice, as though she was referring to someone specific. Someone she did not like. Youjin Chao hid his grimace very well.

“Ling,” Yung said, too excited to care. “I have a waaaaay better method to foster loyalty and teamwork. Are you interested?”