The girl with the frost sword had been restless since dawn. Ever since Jumi whispered the secret of Mo Han's terrifying ability—that his very presence could ignite breakthroughs—her heart had burned with greed and desire.

Tang Zin sharpened her blade thrice, yet no clarity came. Instead, visions of Mo Han's calm eyes and effortless aura haunted her mind.

By noon, she gathered her courage and intercepted him near the Academy's outer courtyard.

Mo Han had just stepped out from his stone house, adjusting his robe sleeves, when she blocked his path. Her frost sword hung at her hip, but the chill in her gaze was replaced by something softer.

"Mo Han," she said, voice low, almost husky.

He stopped, his eyes calm. "What do you want?"

Her lips curved, though her heart thundered. "I heard… rumors. They say you're not only skilled in healing and alchemy, but that your… dual cultivation ability is extraordinary." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Why waste time with commoners and sect errands? Exchange with me—I'll give you spirit stones, treasures, even my sword if you'll help me advance."

Mo Han's expression didn't change. "And by 'help,' you mean dual cultivation?"

She swallowed and nodded, cheeks flushing. "Yes. I'll pay whatever price you ask. Don't you want wealth? Influence? I can become your partner. With me, you won't need to struggle alone."

Mo Han's eyes glinted faintly as he replied coldly, "If wealth was my goal, I wouldn't be standing here. If influence was my target, I'd already be kneeling before some elder. And if lust ruled me…" His gaze flicked briefly over her trembling form. "…you wouldn't need to beg."

Her body stiffened. She bit her lip, then suddenly dropped pride altogether, bowing low until her forehead almost touched the ground. "Mo Han! Please! Just once! If not me, then at least take my offer for the treasures. I'll give everything I have. I just… I just want that breakthrough. Don't you understand?"

The desperation in her voice turned heads. Some passing disciples paused, whispers filling the air.

Mo Han turned away, his voice as sharp as a sword's edge. "Cultivation bought with begging isn't cultivation worth keeping. Go find your own path."

His words struck like a whip. She jerked upright, her face flushing with shame and fury. "You'll regret this!" she spat, her eyes flashing with wounded pride. "One day you'll crawl back for what I offered freely!"

Mo Han ignored her entirely, his boots echoing against the stone path as he walked on.

At the sect's main archway, a crowd had gathered. Disciples, merchants, and even outer visitors clustered, murmuring as they pointed at fresh parchments pasted on the grand gate's pillars.

Mo Han slowed, sensing the unusual stir. His eyes fell upon the parchments, and his body stiffened.

It was a wanted poster. The face etched on it was unmistakable—the sharp yet delicate features, the fierce eyes, though smudged with injury in memory.

The same woman I healed that night.

Bold characters beneath her likeness read:

WANTED – TRAITOR OF THE GOLDEN CROW NATION

Reward: 100,000 Spirit Stones

Alive preferred. Dead accepted.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"A traitor… Hundred thousand spirit stones?"

"She looks so young… but to anger the Golden Crow Nation? She must be dangerous."

"Who would dare protect such a woman? Even her allies will be hunted down!"

Mo Han's eyes narrowed. So she wasn't just some injured cultivator. She carries the weight of a nation's pursuit.

He folded his arms, his mind racing. The night came back to him—the urgency of the guards, the secrecy, the old man in black armor who provided the herbs without hesitation. They had hidden her identity deliberately.

And I saved her life.

For a moment, the noise around him blurred. He could almost hear her vow, the unspoken promise in her trembling breath when she had whispered, "I'll make you mine."

Now her face was pasted for the world to spit upon.

A disciple near him muttered, "Hundred thousand spirit stones… enough to buy a divine-ranked weapon. Whoever captures her will ascend in wealth instantly."

Mo Han's fingers twitched faintly at his side. His lips curled into the ghost of a smile, one that carried no joy. So this is the storm I stepped into. Interesting.

Without another glance, he turned from the archway, leaving the murmuring crowd behind. But his mind was already sharpening like a drawn blade.

Mo Han walked away from the crowd, his steps slow, deliberate, as though each strike of his boot was weighing the echoes of what he had just seen.

The parchment with the etched face burned in his mind. That same woman—bloodied, broken, and clinging to life in the secret tent—was now declared a traitor worth ten thousand spirit stones.

At the corner of the street, soldiers in black-gold armor of the Golden Crow Nation were already scouring the alleys. Their presence sent ripples of fear through the citizens of Red Silk City. Shopkeepers bowed low, pleasure houses dimmed their lanterns, and even bold cultivators stepped aside as the soldiers passed.

Mo Han's eyes narrowed. They've already begun the hunt. That means she escaped their grasp only recently. Which means… I was the one who delayed her death.

He moved into a shadowed alley, leaning against a bamboo post, watching the soldiers spread like ants. Their captain barked orders:

"Check every inn, every healer's tower, every merchant's house! That traitor is wounded. She cannot have gone far! Ten thousand spirit stones to the one who brings her head!"

The words echoed through the night, sharp and merciless.

Mo Han exhaled slowly. "So… a traitor to a nation." His lips curved faintly. "But a woman strong enough to survive those wounds… and dangerous enough for a kingdom to brand her traitor."

For most, it would be an invitation to flee, to wash hands of involvement. But for Mo Han, it was a puzzle.

She begged me to save her life. She vowed something silently that night. Her body carried the aura of someone far beyond ordinary cultivators. Who exactly are you, mysterious lady? A fallen general? A rogue princess? Or perhaps… someone holding a secret the Golden Crow Nation cannot let slip?

His fingers brushed the storage pouch where his tools rested. That night, he hadn't just brewed a potion. He had felt her meridians, the traces of forbidden energy still tangled inside. And he remembered her vow—unspoken words but etched in her trembling breath—I will not forget you.

Mo Han straightened. His decision was already made.

"I'll find out your identity," he muttered, his eyes flashing cold light. "Not because of your wealth, not because of your promises… but because whoever is hunted so viciously holds keys to bigger storms. And I want to know if saving you was a step into fortune—or into calamity."

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