CHAPTER 110: THE GLIMMER IN HER EYES

The training grounds of the Falling Phoenix Pavilion had long since grown quiet.

The sounds of swords clashing and Qi crackling had faded into the whispers of crickets in the evening haze.

Lin Fan sat beneath the cherry blossom tree—yes, the same one he had trained under a hundred times—lost in the memory of a smile.

Not Lan Yinyin’s. No. That smile had shattered. Crushed into dust the day Hei Long walked off with her hand in his.

No... this smile belonged to someone else now.

Her name?

Mu Lanyue.

The sect’s most enigmatic alchemist.

Rumored to have descended from the Ice Phoenix Clan, her mastery over soul-healing elixirs had garnered attention from grand elders across four domains.

Her presence was serene. Untouched. Aloof. Her eyes rarely lingered, but when they did...

She had looked at him. Once. Just once.

And Lin Fan had felt warm for the first time in months.

He had decided—this time, he would be first.

This time, he wouldn’t let his feelings rot into nothingness, wouldn’t be outmaneuvered, outshined, out-stolen.

The Plan of Pursuit

By the second day of stalking—ahem, observing—Mu Lanyue’s routines, Lin Fan had mapped out a perfectly innocent and completely not-creepy timetable of her entire schedule.

Morning meditations by the jade koi pond. Afternoon refinement labs on the 9th terrace. Evening scroll studies in the Violet Moon Archives.

He even stopped eating spicy food so his breath wouldn’t offend her.

That was how serious he was.

"I’m not going to mess it up this time," Lin Fan whispered to himself, holding a bouquet of spirit poppies.

A hand patted his shoulder.

"Good luck with that, loser," Hei Long said, smiling faintly.

Lin Fan froze.

No.

No, no, no.

He turned slowly to see Hei Long strolling past with casual ease, heading in the same direction. Toward the koi pond. Toward her.

Lin Fan almost dropped the flowers.

Hei Long, Again?

It didn’t make sense.

Hei Long was supposed to be in the Spirit Realm, still honeymooning with Lan Yinyin—or so the gossip vines had whispered.

But here he was, walking barefoot through the garden, a flute strapped to his side, his robes clean, crisp, arrogant.

"Why are you even here?" Lin Fan asked, voice dry, mouth suddenly tasting of metal.

Hei Long stopped, turned slightly, and smirked.

"Wandering," he said. "This world’s full of beauty. It’d be a shame to only enjoy one flower forever, wouldn’t it?"

Lin Fan’s knees almost gave out.

The Moment of Collapse

When he arrived at the koi pond, bouquet now clutched like a lifeline, he found Mu Lanyue already seated beneath the willow tree.

And Hei Long... playing a gentle melody beside her.

Flute notes danced like wind through leaves, stirring her hair ever so slightly.

She was smiling.

Not like Lan Yinyin’s mocking laughter. Not like the pitying gazes he’d received since the matchmaking festival.

This was genuine. Subtle. Intrigued.

Lin Fan wanted to scream.

Instead, he stepped forward.

"Mu Lanyue!" he called.

Her gaze shifted toward him.

He held out the bouquet. "These are for you."

She blinked once, looked at the flowers... then looked at Hei Long.

Lin Fan didn’t need to hear her next words.

The look was enough.

The Descent of Madness

Lin Fan didn’t sleep that night. He instead began building a new shrine.

Not for worship. Not for prayer.

For vengeance.

Within the hidden corners of the alchemy wing, he drew blueprints for something forbidden. Something terrible.

A concoction that would supposedly "reverse soul entanglements," "cancel emotional resonance," and "make girls think you were hot."

He dubbed it: Project Ember Cry.

One part heaven-seared mandrake. Two parts phoenix ash. One part pride. All burned together in the Crucible of Heartbreak.

It exploded.

Twice.

The third time, it just laughed at him.

Meanwhile, Hei Long...

Hei Long didn’t even seem to be trying. He just existed—and women gathered.

Mu Lanyue began walking with him in the mornings. Asking about flute techniques. Sparring with him—sparring!—in the evenings.

The elders were talking again.

Lin Fan even caught his own spiritual sword writing "Hei Long 4 Ever 3" in midair before he slapped it down.

End of the Beginning

In the 9th courtyard of the mountain sect, Lin Fan stood on the precipice of his next humiliation.

He watched them.

Watched as Mu Lanyue leaned just a little too close.

Watched Hei Long whisper something into her ear.

Watched her laugh.

That same smile.

That smile she had saved for him—just once—was now gone. Given to another.

Given to him.

And Lin Fan realized the truth once again:

He was still losing.

. . . .

The clouds above the Mistveil Sect were unusually restless, flickering with glints of spiritual lightning—harbingers of change.

Disciples moved like ants across the sprawling courtyards, tending to their cultivation drills and mentor-led duels, unaware that within the quiet halls of the eastern library, a story far darker than lightning was beginning to unfold.

Lin Fan stood alone in the meditation garden, his robe unkempt, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night.

Mu Lanyue’s smile—it had been soft, just for him. He was certain of it. It wasn’t a polite gesture, nor a simple thank-you for his help with the fallen spirit tree. It had been... something real.

He replayed it over and over in his mind.The way her fingers brushed her hair.The way she glanced at him before walking away.The faint pink hue on her cheeks.

It had to mean something.

"Lanyue..." he whispered, crouching beside the dew-laden lotus pond, gripping the small jade token she had given him during last week’s group mission.

"For safety," she had said. But what girl gave a protective charm to a man she didn’t care for?

She cared.

She had to.

Elsewhere in the Sect...

Hei Long knelt calmly within a secluded cultivation chamber, spiritual energies swirling around his body like serpents drawn to royalty. His expression was unreadable—eyes closed, mind clear.

His fingers curled around a different token—one he hadn’t received by accident.

A petal-shaped slip of spirit-forged parchment, perfumed faintly with lotus, carried a name written in careful strokes: Mu Lanyue.

"She was watching him again today," Hei Long murmured, finally opening his eyes. His golden irises shimmered with veiled curiosity.

"Poor Lin Fan. Always falling for women fated to glance only once before moving on."

He pocketed the parchment, stood, and dusted off his robes.

Time to meet her.

[Three Days Later – The Green Heart Pavilion]

Mu Lanyue sat beneath a wisteria tree, her sword propped beside her, and a scroll in her lap. Her long hair was braided in a simple knot, and the sect’s green sash shimmered softly across her waist.

She wasn’t alone.

Lin Fan approached nervously, clutching two cups of lotus tea he had specially prepared—one for her, one for him. He had timed this moment carefully, watching her habits for days, making sure no one else would bother them.

Just as he rounded the corner with a trembling smile on his face—

"Mu Shimei," a voice called out from behind the tree.

Lin Fan froze.

Hei Long.

He stepped into the clearing like a scene from a painting, the sunlight caressing his figure, hair tied back into a high warrior’s knot, his tone warm yet distant.

Lanyue’s expression shifted.

"...Senior Hei?" she asked, her voice soft but unmistakably surprised.

"I was told you like quiet gardens," Hei Long said, not looking at Lin Fan at all. "So I thought I’d return this."

He handed her a folded ribbon—a strip of green silk that had fallen from her training garb two days prior.

Lin Fan had seen it happen.

He had been right there.

He had even been the one to hand it back to her—awkwardly, nervously, but sincerely.

So why did Hei Long have it now?

And more importantly, why was she smiling like that?

"I didn’t think you noticed," Lanyue said, gently taking the ribbon.

Hei Long only gave a modest smile. "I notice many things."

[That Evening – Lin Fan’s Quarters]

The walls seemed closer than usual. The lotus tea had gone cold. He hadn’t taken a single sip.

"I noticed many things."

What did that even mean? What things? Why had she laughed? Why had she offered him a seat beside her afterward? Why had she leaned in while Hei Long spoke of the swordplay demonstration next week?

Lin Fan’s hands trembled.

Was I too late?

[The Days That Followed]

Lin Fan tried. He truly did.

He joined every group mission Mu Lanyue was on.

He offered talismans, taught her a minor technique he’d developed, and even sacrificed his share of spirit beast cores so she could break through faster.

She thanked him every time.

But the smile never reached her eyes anymore.

Not the way it had when she spoke to Hei Long.

And Hei Long? He never once boasted. Never touched her. Never even flirted.

He simply stood near, offered small insights, nodded during her training sessions—and it was enough. Enough to warp her heart.

Lin Fan watched them spar together.

He watched them stand silently beside one another on a cliff at dawn.

He watched her laugh when Hei Long misquoted a cultivation proverb.

He watched her once look at him—Lin Fan—then immediately turn away, distracted by Hei Long’s quiet smile.

. . . .

One night, during a stormy elders’ banquet, Mu Lanyue walked past Lin Fan without recognizing him. She had been hurrying—her robes slightly undone, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Later, a group of junior disciples whispered that Hei Long and Mu Lanyue had shared a single umbrella all the way to the Sect’s secluded shrine.

Lin Fan heard every word.

And when he finally confronted her in private, pulling her aside like a man desperate to catch a falling star, all she said was:

"...Lin Fan, I never meant to mislead you."

He had no answer. No words.

Her voice was too gentle. Too pitying.

Too final.

[That Night – Hei Long’s Courtyard]

Hei Long was reading a scroll by candlelight when a knock came at his door.

He opened it to find Lin Fan drenched, fists clenched.

"I challenge you," Lin Fan spat. "To a duel."

Hei Long did not sigh, did not laugh, did not mock.

Instead, he said, "You’re angry. But this isn’t the way."

"You stole her!"

"She was never yours," Hei Long replied simply.

The silence between them was colder than any winter wind.

Lin Fan’s eyes burned. "You don’t even love her."

Hei Long paused.

Then smiled faintly. "Who said I didn’t?"