Chapter 995: Refusing to Stop

Reeds swayed in the dusk, rustling, as Han Wuxian carried Yan Xirou, stepping shallow and deep. The woman's breath puffed on his nape, warm yet weak. Since leaving the medicine immortal's hut, she had been asleep for most of the day.

"How much farther...?" Yan Xirou suddenly asked, her voice hoarse.

Han Wuxian turned his head toward her: "Awake? Hold on a bit longer; the medicine immortal said it's thirty li east, we should be close."

Yan Xirou's fingers unconsciously clenched his shoulder: "Put me down... I can walk."

"Save your strength," Han Wuxian said without releasing, "In your current state you couldn't even beat a wild rabbit."

The marsh fell behind them as the terrain rose. In the distance, the outline of a dilapidated Taoist temple appeared on the mountainside, its gray tiles and ruined walls looking especially bleak in the sunset.

The temple's main gate had long decayed, only a half door hung crookedly on the frame. Han Wuxian stepped carefully over the threshold; the interior was more spacious than imagined, and although part of the main hall's roof had collapsed, the corners remained dry and intact.

"This is it," he placed Yan Xirou on a pile of dry straw, then turned to check the doors and windows, "Temporarily safe."

Yan Xirou leaned against the wall, her complexion still as pale as paper. The aftereffects of the soul‑stripping torment were harsher than she expected; each breath came with a stabbing pain deep in her soul. She watched Han Wuxian's busy back—he was propping the wobbling door with a broken piece of wood and drawing a few simple protective talismans on the floor.

"You don't have to do this," she said suddenly.

Han Wuxian turned his head: "Hm?"

"Save me, carry me, do all this," Yan Xirou's black eyes were bottomless in the dim light, "Do you know who I am?"

Han Wuxian walked back, squatted beside her, and took a water bladder from his chest: "Drink some water first."

Yan Xirou didn't take it, just stared at him: "What did I say to the medicine immortal?"

"You dreamed of your father," Han Wuxian replied calmly, "and said I had saved you."

"That's all?"

"That's all." Han Wuxian twisted off the water bladder's cap, handed it to her lips, "Don't overthink; healing is the priority."

Yan Xirou examined his expression, then lowered her head to sip the water. She wasn't sure if she had revealed more, but Han Wuxian's candid gaze gave her a slight sense of reassurance.

Night fell completely, and the temple interior was pitch black. Han Wuxian lit a small fire; the flames flickered across his sharply defined face, casting shadows of varying depth.

"You should rest," Yan Xirou said, "I'll keep watch."

Han Wuxian laughed: "You like this now?" He picked up a wooden stick from the fire, snapped it with a gentle bend, "You're weaker than this stick."

Yan Xirou tried to retort, but suddenly coughed violently, a sour‑sweet taste rushing up her throat. She hurriedly turned her head, yet a thin strand of blood spilled from her mouth.

"Xirou!" Han Wuxian rushed to her side, his finger lightly touching her pulse; his complexion changed abruptly, "Your soul is unstable!"

Yan Xirou wiped away the blood: "Just the aftereffects of soul stripping, I can't die."

Han Wuxian, without waiting for a reply, pressed her down onto the dry straw: "Don't move." He formed a hand seal, and a gentle golden light flowed from his palms, slowly enveloping Yan Xirou's body, "This is Soul‑Nurturing Technique; it can't cure completely, but it eases the pain."

The golden light wrapped her like warm water; Yan Xirou was surprised to find the stabbing pain in her soul had indeed lessened. She watched Han Wuxian's focused profile, his brows slightly furrowed from expending spiritual energy, and felt a strange emotion stir within her.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked softly.

Han Wuxian didn't answer right away. The golden light continued to flow, reflecting Yan Xirou's delicate features and slightly weary expression. After a long while, he finally spoke:

"When I first saw you in Lin Shan Cheng, you were standing on a roof watching the moon, looking as if you could vanish at any moment."

Yan Xirou was startled; she hadn't expected him to bring up something so long ago.

"Later I found you fight fiercely enough and run fast enough, and thought..." Han Wuxian smiled, "This person is quite interesting; it'd be a pity if they died."

Yan Xirou let out a light snort: "Smooth talker."

But she didn't push his hand away.

Night deepened and the fire dwindled. After confirming Yan Xirou had fallen asleep, Han Wuxian rose silently and began to scout the temple. The main hall's deity statue was now broken and unrecognizable. Thick dust had accumulated under the offering table, bearing traces of mice and centipedes that had crawled over it.

Han Wuxian was leaning down to examine a carving in the corner when he suddenly heard a faint rustle of cloth behind him. He turned alertly, only to see Yan Xirou had somehow sat up; her black hair fell like a waterfall over her shoulders, and the firelight made her eyes especially bright.

"How did you wake?" he hurried back to her side, his voice low, "Where does it hurt?"

Yan Xirou shook her head, gesturing him to sit: "What were you looking at just now?"

"Nothing, just some old carvings," Han Wuxian said, sitting cross‑legged beside her, casually adding a log to the fire, "You, on the other hand, should get more sleep."

Yan Xirou gave no reply, merely gazing quietly at the dancing flames. The firelight cast a warm hue on her pale face, her long lashes casting a small shadow beneath her eyes. Han Wuxian noticed her fingers unconsciously tugging at the hem of her robe, a nervous habit.

"What are you thinking?" he couldn't help asking.

Yan Xirou lifted her gaze, looking straight into his eyes: "I'm thinking, if our enemies come now, how should the two of us, both crippled, deal with it."

Han Wuxian let out a light laugh: "You call me crippled?" He deliberately rolled his shoulders, "Who carried you thirty li?"

"Showing off," Yan Xirou's mouth twitched upward slightly, but she quickly returned to seriousness, "Honestly, Han Wuxian, if things get critical, you go alone."

Han Wuxian's smile vanished instantly. He reached out, gripping Yan Xirou's wrist with a force that made her frown slightly, "Don't let me hear that again."

Their gazes met, and the air seemed to crackle with invisible sparks. Yan Xirou looked away first, but didn't withdraw her hand: "... fool."

The night wind slipped through the broken windows, carrying the distant rustle of reeds. Han Wuxian suddenly perked his ears, "Someone's coming."

Yan Xirou instantly tensed, her fingers reaching for the short blade at her waist. Han Wuxian quickly smothered the fire, plunging the temple into darkness.

"Southeast direction, at least five people," Han Wuxian whispered close to her ear, his warm breath brushing her earlobe, "Can you move?"

Yan Xirou clenched her teeth and nodded, using Han Wuxian's support to rise. The two slipped silently toward the rear hall, where the temple's back door lay.

Yet as they reached the central hall, the main door was kicked open. Moonlight poured in, illuminating five figures in black robes, the leader being the bearded man we had fought on the road, a Mysterious Dao Nascent Soul Cultivator!