The stable smelled of hay, leather, and the faint musk of horses. Dust motes floated lazily in the warm afternoon light, the quiet rustling of animals the only sound beyond the occasional creak of wooden beams.

  The stable master, a stocky man with graying hair and perpetual suspicion carved into his face, eyed Zhen Wei as if he were a particularly flamboyant bandit come to relieve him of his finest steeds.

  Zhen Wei, of course, looked entirely unbothered. He approached the man with his usual carefully measured charm, folding his fan with a lazy flick of his wrist.

  “Ah, my good man,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “I trust you’ve chosen three worthy steeds for us? Nothing too sluggish, nothing too temperamental, a perfect balance of grace and reliability. Much like myself.”

  The stable master grunted and thumbed over his shoulder. “They’ll do.”

  Zhen Wei smiled. “Excellent.”

  The man’s frown deepened, his fingers tightening over his arms. “Ain’t safe,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t even be selling these to you, knowing where you’re headed.”

  Zhen Wei hummed, tapping his fan against his chin. “Ah, so you’ve heard the rumors, then?”

  The stable master gave him a hard look. “I have. And I’ve seen too many folks heading south and never coming back.”

  Zhen Wei considered him for a moment, then sighed dramatically. “Alas, what is life without a little danger?”

  The stable master’s scowl deepened, but beneath his gruff, no-nonsense exterior, Zhen Wei could see the quiet kindness of a man who had spent a lifetime looking out for others.

  Zhen Wei, sensing he wasn’t about to win the man over with charm alone, reached into his sleeve and produced a neat stack of silver taels, placing them deliberately on the counter between them.

  The stable master’s eyes flickered to the money.

  Zhen Wei tilted his head. “Consider this not just payment, but a token of appreciation. For your concern.”

  The stable master exhaled through his nose, staring at the silver as if debating whether taking it made him an accomplice to foolishness. But, in the end, he reached forward and swept the coins into his palm.

  “…You’ll find the horses saddled out back.” His voice was gruff, the underlying tension remained. “Sure you won’t change your mind?”

  Zhen Wei smiled. “Not in the slightest.”

  The stable master gave him one last, long look, then shook his head.

  “Then I’ll pray for you.”

  Zhen Wei’s smile faltered.

  It was just for a fraction of a second, a blink-and-you’d-miss-it shift, but it was there. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, seemed to darken, as if touched by something ancient and unknowable. Then, just as quickly, it returned. Effortless. Smooth. Untouchable.

  “A kind thought,” Zhen Wei said lightly. “But let’s hope I won’t need it.”

  With that, he turned on his heel, walked out, and paused, his fan snapping open with a flick.

  “I’ll be back to collect them shortly.”

  The stable master nodded and watched him go, expression unreadable.

  And behind him, the horses stamped their hooves, uneasy.

  The inn stood at the heart of the quiet town, its wooden beams weathered by time and sun, yet still sturdy and welcoming. The sloping tiled roof bore the weight of many seasons, its once-deep red now faded to earthy tones, the edges curled slightly with age.

  A wooden sign creaked gently in the breeze, swaying from an iron bracket. The characters, though slightly worn, still bore the name of the establishment with bold, steady strokes: “云栖客舍 (Cloudrest Inn).”

  Inside, the inn was nearly empty.

  A few travelers occupied the farthest tables, speaking in low, hushed voices. The air smelled of warm broth, freshly steamed rice, and slow-cooked meats, but the comforting aromas did nothing to chase away the heavy atmosphere.

  The innkeeper, a thin man with kind eyes, greeted them with far less hesitation than the stable master.

  “Welcome, welcome,” he said, giving them a cautious but polite bow. “You’ve come at a quiet time, most folk have taken to staying home these days. Have a seat anywhere you like.”

  Zhen Wei picked the best table by the window, of course. Mo Chen took the seat facing the entrance out of habit.

  The innkeeper took their orders, quickly preparing a meal of hot rice, braised pork, and a side of greens. Simple, but hearty and warm. When he returned, placing the steaming bowls in front of them, he hesitated for a moment.

  “…You three ought to be careful heading into Zhong Yu,” he said.

  Mo Chen lifted his gaze. “Why?”

  The innkeeper lowered his voice. “The rumors are getting worse. The sickness, it’s spreading.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Xu Lian leaned forward, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. “What have you heard?”

  The man’s expression darkened. “It started in Willow’s Rest, but now there’s word of villages further south falling ill. People coughing up black bile, their bodies turning ashen and shriveled, as if drained of life. Some say the waters are poisoned. Others whisper that it’s a curse.”

  Zhen Wei let out a low hum, tapping his fingers against the table. “And what do you believe?”

  The innkeeper hesitated. “I don’t know. But one thing’s for certain, this is not a normal sickness.”

  A quiet beat passed between them.

  The innkeeper straightened and forced a smile. “Well, eat up. No sense worrying over empty stomachs.”

  As soon as he walked away, Zhen Wei leaned back, twirling his chopsticks between his fingers.

  “Well, isn’t this delightful?” he mused. “A mystery! A sickness that spreads, water that poisons, and whispers of curses in the wind.”

  Mo Chen ignored his theatrics. “What’s your theory?”

  Zhen Wei smiled. “Ah, asking for my wisdom at last?”

  Mo Chen sighed.

  Zhen Wei chuckled. “Fine, fine. Here’s what I think, this is no mere plague. If it were, ordinary healers would be enough to contain it. But the fact that sects are sending disciples means it’s something more. A spirit-born affliction, perhaps. Or something even darker.”

  Xu Lian tapped her chopsticks against her bowl. “Could it be demonic?”

  Mo Chen was silent for a moment before finally saying, “It’s possible.”

  Zhen Wei, watching them both, twirled his chopsticks again. “If it is demonic, then we must ask, why now?”

  Xu Lian frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The world has been relatively stable, has it not?” Zhen Wei waved a hand. “Yes, chaos always exists, but this, this has all the signs of something deliberate.” He tilted his head. “And if demons are involved, they rarely act without purpose.”

  Mo Chen’s grip on his chopsticks tightened slightly.

  Xu Lian, ever the bold one, spoke what he was thinking. “So… someone is doing this?”

  Zhen Wei’s smile did not reach his eyes. “That is the real question, isn’t it?”

  Mo Chen remained quiet, his mind turning over the possibilities.

  If this was an unnatural sickness, if demons were involved, then this wasn’t just a spreading illness.

  This was an act of war.

  He exhaled, looking down at his meal.

  The food was hot. Comforting.

  But somehow, it tasted like ash in his mouth.

  Xu Lian glanced at Mo Chen, her brow furrowed. “What are you thinking?”

  Mo Chen set his chopsticks down, his expression grim. “If this is demonic, it’s not just a sickness. It’s an attack. And if it’s spreading this quickly, it’s only a matter of time before it reaches the cities.”

  Zhen Wei nodded, his usual levity replaced by a rare seriousness. “Which means we’re not just dealing with a plague. We’re dealing with a war.”

  Xu Lian’s eyes widened. “A war?”

  “A war,” Mo Chen confirmed. “And if we don’t stop it, it won’t just be villages that fall. It’ll be everything.”

  The weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

  Xu Lian swallowed hard, her earlier excitement replaced by a growing sense of dread. “Then we have to stop it. No matter what.”

  Mo Chen met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “We will.”

  Zhen Wei, watching them both, flicked his fan open with a soft snap. “Well, then. It seems our little detour just became a lot more interesting.”

  Mo Chen shot him a look. “This isn’t a game, Zhen Wei.”

  Zhen Wei’s smile was faint, almost sad. “Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.”

  For a moment, his eyes seemed to glimmer with something ancient and unknowable, a flicker of divinity hidden beneath his playful exterior. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

  “Eat up,” he said lightly, gesturing to their food. “We’ll need our strength for what’s ahead.”

  Mo Chen nodded, though his appetite was gone.

  The trio stepped out of inn, the wooden door creaking softly behind them. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet town. What should have been a bustling afternoon was unsettlingly subdued, few people lingered in the streets, and those who did moved with purposeful urgency, heads down, voices hushed.

  Xu Lian exhaled, shaking off the lingering weight of their conversation. The sickness, the whispers, the creeping sense of something darker, it all felt distant when faced with the simple act of walking through the fading light. The world still looked the same. It was easy to pretend, for just a moment, that nothing was wrong.

  Zhen Wei, ever the unbothered one, stretched his arms lazily behind his head as they walked. “You know,” he mused, “if I were a particularly superstitious man, I’d say this town feels haunted.”

  Xu Lian arched a brow. “Are you a particularly superstitious man?”

  Zhen Wei tapped his fan against his chin. “Oh, absolutely not. But I do appreciate a well-crafted omen when I see one.”

  Mo Chen, walking a step ahead, didn’t slow his pace. “It’s not an omen,” he said flatly. “It’s fear.”

  They crossed the dusty road toward the stables, the scent of hay, leather, and horses growing stronger. The wooden beams creaked overhead as the evening wind drifted through the open structure.

  The stable master was waiting for them. Or rather, he was standing near the entrance, arms crossed, watching them approach with a wariness that hadn’t faded since their last meeting. He gave them a curt nod, then jerked his head toward the back.

  “They’re ready,” he said gruffly.

  Zhen Wei smiled. “Excellent. I trust they’ve been informed of their noble duty?”

  The man grunted. “They’re horses, not soldiers.”

  Zhen Wei sighed theatrically. “Pity. I do so love a valiant steed.”

  Mo Chen ignored them both, stepping past to inspect the animals. The horses stood saddled and ready, their dark eyes flicking toward the newcomers with cautious curiosity. One, a strong black gelding with a sleek coat, huffed softly, shifting his weight as Mo Chen ran a hand down his neck.

  Xu Lian stepped up to her own chestnut mare, gently brushing her fingers over its soft muzzle. “She’s beautiful,” she murmured.

  The stable master exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good horses. Strong, steady. But like I said, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Zhen Wei’s smile was easy, but his eyes carried a quiet understanding. He dipped his head slightly. “Duly noted, my friend.” Then, as if to lighten the mood, he turned to Mo Chen. “You ready, oh fearless leader?”

  Mo Chen mounted his horse in a single fluid motion. “Let’s go.”

  Zhen Wei grinned, vaulting onto his own steed with infuriating ease. “Ah, adventure calls.”

  Xu Lian swung into her saddle, adjusting her grip on the reins. She took one last glance at the town behind them, at the quiet streets, the unspoken warnings lingering in the air.

  Then she faced forward.

  With a gentle kick, they rode out of the stables and onto the open road.

  The path ahead stretched wide, the sky darkening into twilight.

  And somewhere in the distance, beneath the hush of the wind, something unseen was waiting.

  And there we have it! ?? Our heroes are officially on the road, with fresh mounts, grim warnings, and a mystery that just keeps getting deeper. ??

  90% charisma, 10% menace. ?? Mo Chen? Silently brooding his way through the apocalypse. ?? And Xu Lian? Still vibing, but now with an uneasy feeling in her gut.

  foreshadowing, whispers of war, and a sickness that might be more than it seems, and this is only the beginning. ??

  More miles, more banter, and the slow but inevitable unraveling of fate. Stay tuned, dear readers! And as always... thank you for walking this road with me. ???

  ?? Themes I Write: Xianxia | Wuxia | Cultivation | Poetic Tragedy | Immortality & Fate

  ?? Find Me Elsewhere:

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  https://ko-fi.com/voidquill