JUN

His body was only now recovering from the beating he’d taken from the Li family at the marriage banquet. He had really miscalculated that one. He’d gone to see Vivian and maybe do a little face-slapping to her new husband—the one who wasn’t worthy of her. It resulted in him almost dying and being saved by the very person he was trying to shame. The irony was not lost on him.

It had been several months since then, and things just seemed to be going downhill, which is why Jun found himself traveling to Lotus Peak despite Vivian’s stated desire to stay in seclusion. He hadn’t heard from her for the longest stretch since they’d reconnected years ago—and that wasn’t something she did.

He wondered how he’d gotten to this point. Vivian liked him, and he liked her. How did it come to this—she had to marry another man and not be with him—when he was clearly superior to that man? It made no sense.

He’d tried to embarrass Ethan. He didn’t regret that. He couldn’t. Not when Vivian had been pushed into that ridiculous engagement against her will.

At least, that’s what he’d believed.

But something had shifted.

The last time he kissed her—before she left the mountains—she hadn’t kissed him back with the same fire. She went along with it, sure, but her body was there and her heart wasn’t. And then… nothing. No letters. No messages. No signals. Not even a faint spiritual echo. That was unlike her. Even in seclusion, she always checked in. A pulse of mana. A slip of ink. Something. This time, silence.

And he didn’t understand it. Not really.

What was so special about Ethan Zhou?

The guy wasn’t even that good-looking. He had the sort of face you forgot as soon as he turned around. Smart? Sure. But intelligence only mattered if you could do something with it. He was from some low-ranking family, and yes, he’d gone to the Imperial Academy—but he left with no real accomplishment; theory more than action—and then fell off the map.

Jun didn’t even know why the Matriarch of the Li family insisted on Ethan as her son-in-law when Jun himself was objectively better.

Yet somehow, this same scholar had thrown everything into disarray.

Jun’s status as Vivian Li’s potential consort had taken a serious hit over the last several months. Jun had even planned to tell his sect elders about the arrangement when Vivian announced her marriage to Ethan. It affected his standing in his own sect.

First whispers, then rumors, now outright discussion. And it was Ethan’s name on everyone’s lips.

He had always assumed Vivian would be cold toward outsiders. She was famously reserved in her interactions with most (even him in public). Ethan should have been no different; all it would take was a bit of pressure, and Ethan would retreat, leaving her to return to the ones who truly knew her.

To him.

He never claimed to be Vivian’s equal. That was foolish. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe he could match her—not really. She had the Li blood in her veins—fire and steel and purpose. He had ambition, charm, and just enough talent to be considered useful. But Vivian… Vivian was the total package; probably the single most desired woman of her generation. She was the real deal.

Her brothers knew it. Hell, they counted on it.

Nathan was the more famous swordsman, a prodigy with absurd cultivation talent for his age and a blade like liquid lightning. But Vivian had technical insight he didn’t. She understood the why of the sword, not just the form—and, just as importantly, the mana application of Li swordsmanship—and even more important than that, she could teach the two together. Gavin was a war genius, brutal and efficient, and easily the strongest among them in raw cultivation, but he was less skilled with a sword—which was tough, being General Li’s son. He made up for it with his caster abilities, which made him extremely dangerous in large-scale conflicts. Gavin was also useless when it came to politics. Lucas didn’t shine as a warrior or a caster, but his brilliance lay in the shadows—logistics, messaging, information warfare. He practically ran the Lis’ internal movements, strategic planning, and intelligence from behind the curtain.

Vivian wasn’t the best at any one thing—but she could do all of it. And when she brought it together, it made her more terrifying than any of her brothers.

What was funny was they didn’t care. They knew it and simply loved their sister.

The brothers would spend their lives taking care of their sister, who would be head—and even though they didn’t say it aloud, all signs pointed to this.

There were those who were not happy about that.

The eldest brother’s wife—Jun could never remember her name—resented it. You could see it in the way she smiled. But Ren Yaling, Lucas’s wife, didn’t. Ren Yaling was clever enough to know her place. She came from a Tier-Six noble house, sharp as a blade and profitable as a merchant guild. Her reach extended across half the Empire’s trade routes. She didn’t need the title to rule. She was already powerful.

And she loved her husband almost obsessively. She could be a brutal woman when people messed with Lucas Li.

It was probably why the Li family was so powerful. They moved like a machine—a perfect mash of power and purpose.

Being connected to Vivian had given Jun a future. Not just comfort or station—but belonging. He was going to be her consort. It wasn’t official, but he knew she loved him. That she wanted him.

Stolen novel; please report.

He had been banking on it.

And now?

Now he was watching it unravel—derailed by a quiet scholar who shouldn’t have even been in the conversation.

He had to get to her. Talk to her. Remind her of who they were. Reignite that flame. That’s why he came up the mountain. To fix this before it slipped away for good.

It was how Jun found himself in the city in the mountains near Lotus Peak. He had sent Vivian another message; he had to see her today.

Jun pushed through the sparse crowd. The people around him ignored him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He knew that. But knowing hadn’t stopped him. Not when he saw her.

Vivian. She stood near the open path, already in travel gear, which—despite looking quite basic—couldn’t hide how utterly attractive she was. The weight of a sword wasn’t just for ceremony this time; she was prepared for battle or travel or something else. And she wasn’t alone.

The women around her radiated a confusing mix of strength and cultivated beauty. They walked together in a sort of quiet, begrudging sisterhood united in some purpose he couldn’t distinguish. And he couldn’t even begin to guess that purpose. This wasn’t a cohesive strike team, but a baffling assembly of clearly out of place noble women.

He continued to observe, and he knew—or at least knew of—most of them. Anmei of the Emberflower Pavilion was immediately recognizable. Her hair was that unique red you didn’t often see. The twins from the Zhou household—Vivian’s in-laws—took longer, but he recognized them from the Path Icon footage from the Home Return. He knew the Lin girl; she was a friend of the Zhou family and apparently more than a little obsessed with Ethan himself.

The other two didn’t come to mind. One was a rather severe-looking woman with a plain face but blue-blonde hair, which was fairly unique in and of itself.

The last one Jun felt he knew but couldn’t place. She was clearly a high-ranking noble’s daughter. Too practiced to be self-conscious. Too calm to be faking it. She wore simple but masterfully tailored clothing and had golden hair and eyes.

She was like a walking contradiction; magic shifted around her. It seemed he had stumbled onto something dramatic: Vivian looked upset; the others were looking at the “plain” noble with different expressions. They started to walk.

Vivian walked with the blonde hair woman; they seemed to be deep in discussion, though he was too far to hear.

He didn’t know that kind of magic trick.

The two women walked, with the others moving beside and behind them. The only sense he got from the two women was a sort of tension. Words were hurried and loaded. The conflict heavy, and there was regret underneath it all. He wondered if Vivian’s regret had anything to do with him. Jun clung to that like a drowning man to driftwood.

He stepped out to be seen.

The stares were less than friendly. Only one didn’t seem to take the moment seriously—Anmei, one of the Four Great Beauties of the Empire—wore an expression that screamed she was enjoying the situation.

As Jun stepped forward, Marissa Lin scoffed audibly. Her lips, plump and pouty, curled in disdain. “Of course he shows up,” she muttered, not quite under her breath, gaze flicking pointedly from Jun to Vivian.

The others? They looked one breath away from drawing steel. And still, Jun stepped forward. Vivian turned. Her posture locked. Their eyes met. In that moment, he saw it clearly—the flicker of recognition, the burst of something sharp behind her composed exterior. But it wasn’t warmth. It wasn’t longing. It was resignation. Not the cold, icy disdain she used with political enemies; more a personal weariness.

Before he could speak, before he could even get her name past his lips, she moved. Fast. Her hand seized his forearm with surprising strength and pulled him sharply to the side—slighty away from the others, far enough that they might not actually hear what was being said.

They all watched, though. Vivian looked panicked—specifically glancing at the twins.

Strange. Why was she so distressed?

They looked at each other for a moment. The mountain air was cold here, sharp with pine and frost. But her voice burned.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Jun was taken aback. Vivian had never spoken to him this way. “Vi, I… I’m sorry. I had to see you. It’s been months since I heard from you. I was starting to get worried. I miss you and needed to come. Your last message indicated you wouldn’t mind.”

Jun gave his best pathetic “I love you” face.

Vivian’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t soften. Didn’t take his hand like she would have in the past. She just glared at him.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Her voice was low. “You keep showing up when you’re not supposed to. You keep pushing when you should stop.”

Her grip tightened on his sleeve, knuckles white. Her eyes—those beautiful, calculating eyes—held no softness now. Only exhaustion and fury.

“I’m married now, Jun. You need to respect that. Hell, I need to respect that.”

The words hit like a slap. It wasn't meant to be cruel only final.

He stared at her, reeling. Married. It wasn’t like he didn’t know; it’s just… this isn’t how it was supposed to be.

“I know you’re married, Vivian. Everything around you reminds me. But marriage and love—” he blurted, the words raw. “We were always going to be us. Why are you acting like this now? We were still kissing—not three months ago.”

Her jaw flexed, a muscle ticking under her pale skin. “That was… I didn’t know. I needed to know.”

“Needed to know what?” he pressed, stepping closer, desperate. “That you’d just cut me off? No letters, no messages? After years of connection and declarations of feelings? You just ghost me. You’ve never done that, Vivian. Not even in your times of hardest cultivation. This isn’t you.”

“This is me, Jun,” she cut him off, her voice cracking with the effort to keep it low. “This is the consequence of decisions. My decisions. I didn’t want this—this arranged marriage. I never wanted to be tied to a man I didn’t know.” Her eyes flashed with a pain that startled him. “But it happened. It’s done. I can no longer afford to divide my attention or ignore how I feel. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to Ethan. What happened between us… it can’t happen anymore.”

“What do you mean it cannot happen?” he pleaded, reaching for her, his hand brushing the reinforced material of her cloak. “You said you needed to know… then know this: I don’t care about him. I care about you. We can fix this. We can fight it. Just divorce the scholar.”

She flinched at his touch, pulling back as if burned. Her face shifted.

The anger drained—not gone, but buried under something heavier. Weariness. Bone-deep fatigue. The kind that didn’t come from fighting battles, but from being tired of explaining yourself to someone who never really listened.

“There’s no ‘us’ to fix, Jun,” she whispered, barely audible over the wind. “Not anymore. And we can’t fight this. It’s what has to be.”

She gestured vaguely back toward the path. “You don’t understand. This is different.”

She let go of his arm. Looked away, her shoulders slumping a fraction.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispered again. “Not with you.”

Then she turned.

“Wait. Vi,” he called desperately. “Is it him? Is he forcing you? Do I have to challenge him to a duel? Because I will—I’ll get my clan involved—”

“Stop, Jun.” Almost a whisper. “Ethan… Ethan didn’t say anything. Actually, he probably would have accepted you. He would have allowed the arrangement. But I was wrong; wrong about everything.”

She looked sad when she said it.

And before he could speak again—before he could even step after her—she was gone, disappearing into the thinning mist like a ghost vanishing into memory.

He stood there, alone with the cold and the mountain wind.

And this time, she didn’t look back.