Borrowed Fate

Behind the thick concrete walls of a secluded residence, a woman stood in silence. Two fingers pressed slightly against her lips as if channeling a spell.

"Zhu-Jie... Jiejie... Zhu Jiejie, are you there?" She called, her voice soft yet insistent. But no response came.

Her brows knitted together in displeasure, yet she refused to relent, repeating the name with quiet determination. Each time she spoke, a red glow flickered from her fingertips, pulsing in the dim light.

"Who goes there?" A sharp, youthful voice suddenly rang out from beyond the walls, shattering the stillness.

The woman clicked her tongue in frustration, and hastily muttered,

"Retreat!"

At her command, the ground beneath the residence quivered, rippling like a disturbed pond. Something buried deep within stirred, slithering toward her like a serpent obeying its master's call.

"Find her," she uttered.

The waves of earth shifted, spreading outward in search of their target. Without another word, she vanished, dissolving into the passing wind.

The wind traveled far, brushing past scented flowers and filling the air with fresh scent of dew on the grass, mingling with a subtle hint of jasmine from the surrounding woods.

It drifted gently through a quite, resting place, where the souls of the departed lay in eternal rest.

In front of the graves stood a woman dressed in an exquisite black hanfu. Its flowing sleeves bore delicate silver embroidery, softly shimmering in the morning light.

She exuded both power and grace, her stillness radiating a quite strength. Her long, black straight hair was pulled into a simple ponytail, swaying swiftly in the breeze. In her right hand, she held a sword.

This woman was Li Wang Zhu, a third-generation disciple of the Ranji Sect—one of the three most prestigious cultivation sect's in the world. It stood atop a mountain peak, shrouded in mist, it's halls steeped in history and discipline.

Wang Zhu closed her eyes, allowing the wind to caress her face like an old friend, its touch brings a fleeting sense of peace.

But the moment was cut short.

A tremor, subtle yet deliberate, rippled to the ground beneath her.

Her instinct sharpened in an instant. Without hesitation, she tightened her grip on her sword and thrust it down, cutting through the unseen force lurking below.

"Finally found you."

A familiar voice cut through an intense atmosphere.

Wang Zhu pulled her sword back and look ahead.

"Wu Jan," she said.

A woman stood a few paces away, clad in a flowing green-and-white long-sleeved hanfu. A white veil concealed the lower half of her face, but her sharp eyes gleamed with familiarity. At her side hung a sheathed sword.

"Why come here so early in the morning?" Wu Jan asked.

Both are trained under different masters. In the Ranji sect, disciples from different masters are not allowed to meet privately or mingle unless there is an event or mission that necessitates collaboration and communication.

These rules were established to prevent any setbacks in the progress of individual disciples and to avoid information being shared externally, which could allow other sects to learn about their methods.

They believe that behavior and attitude can be controlled, but once a person's words and thoughts are involved, it becomes difficult to manage.

The older generations of the Ranji sect even set boundaries and borders around each pavilion and residence of their disciples, extending to the bridges-each path has its own borders, and those from different masters could only traverse within their master's territory.

Crazy? Yes, all disciples in the Ranji sect think the same. However, they dare not retort or complain, as these rules have been in place for countless ages and centuries. However, this did not prevent the two of them from becoming sworn sisters and close friends in secret.

Wang Zhu let out a resigned sigh and slid her sword back into its scabbard.

"Why do you still use dark spells? I've told you—"

"Yes, yes, I know." Wu Jan waved a hand dismissively.

"It's dangerous. It hinders my cultivation. It's considered demonic. I've heard you." She paused, her tone softening.

"But I was worried, okay? You weren't at your residence when I got there, and I nearly got caught. Again."

She exhaled sharply before adding,

"But it's not the first time, so it's fine,"

Wu Jan took a deep breath, then fixed her gaze on her.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Plan?" Wang Zhu asked, feigning ignorance as if unaware of what she meant.

"Yes. We know who the culprit is now. So, what's the next move?"

Wang Zhu studied her for a long moment before a small, weary smile curved her lips—a smile so gentle, so unlike her usual restrained expressions, that it sent a strange pang through Wu Jan's chest.

Wu Jan had known her senior for long years, had fought alongside her, had bled and sufferd for their shared cause. Yet never—not once—had she seen this expression before.

It was not the satisfied smirk of victory.

Not the hardened mask of resignation. It was... released.

"There will be no plan," Wang Zhu said softly.

"Let us bring our journey to an end."

"What?" Wu Jan's breath hitched.

"I can't burden you any longer with the consequences of my choices." Wang Zhu's voice was steady, but there was a finality to it that sent a chill down Wu Jan's spine.

"Go back to your life. Live it freely. Thank you for honoring your promise to stand by me until the end. I will never forget what you've done."

For a moment, Wu Jan stood frozen, the weight of Wang Zhu's words pressing down on her like stone.

A storm churned inside her—grief, frustration, something sharper, something that burned beneath her skin, clawing for released.

"But why?" She demanded, fists clench.

Her voice cracked, emotions spilling through the fractures.

"We know who the culprit is. Why are we just walking away? Why not make him pay for everything he'd taken from you, for everything he'd done?"

Her voice shuddered as she fought to keep her voice steady.

"For sixteen-years, I've watched you suffered."

Wu Jan's fingers dug into her palms.

"I've heard your screams. I've seen you wake up gasping in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. I've watched you drain yourself just to acquire that damn pill—one that robs you of sleep so you don't have to relive those nightmares." Her voice trembled, thick with unspoken pain.

"And I wanted... no, I needed to see you free from it. To see justice for what you lost. I thought that's what you wanted, too,"

A soft, sad smile flickered a cross, Wang Zhu's lips. She lifted her gaze to the sky, where clouds drifted lazily, undisturbed by human sorrow.

"Freedom. Justice... I want those more than anything." She murmured.

"But I've learned that I can't take them for myself. Those who have wronged me will be held accountable, at the right time."

"Why wait for the right time when we can strike now?" Wu Jan snapped. Her hands trembled at her sides, her voice raw with disbelief.

"You're afraid that the justice you seek will turn into revenge."

Wang Zhu flinched, her expression momentarily unreadable. Then, to Wu Jan's shock she let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.

"You're getting better at pointing things out," she admitted.

"You're right."

Her voice dipped lower, quieter, as she exhaled a slow breath.

"Revenge..." she let the words linger, tasting its bitterness.

"It fuels endurance. It whispers to me in the dead of the night. Of course, it crosses my mind."

She looked straight at Wu Jan, her dark eyes filled with something deep, something that had been carved into her soul over the years.

"But revenge only begets more revenge. And even more loss."

Wu Jan opened her mouth, but Wang Zhu continued before she could argue.

"The innocents left behind by the guilty will suffer just as I have. Wound will breed more wounds. Scars upon scars—an endless path towards emptiness." She shook her head.

"So, what's the point of fueling that endless cycle?"

Wu Jan clenched her jaw.

"Do you hear yourself right now? You're letting a murderer live a carefree life while you're drowning in the sorrow of your past. Do you even understand what this is doing to you?"

She exhaled sharply, her breath unsteady.

"You're being unfair. So cruel to yourself."

Wu Jan swallowed the lump rising in her throat, her voice softer now, laced with sorrow.

"They destroyed you first. Don't you deserve a chance to fight back?"

Wang Zhu remained silent. But her eyes carried the weight of countless years, of pain she could not voice, of burdens she had long since accepted as her own. 

Wu Jan let out a shaky breath, blinking away the tears that were forming in her eyes.

"I understand. I respect your decision. But… where will you go after this? Can I still approach you?"

Wang Zhu showed a knowing smile.

"Why so many questions?" She said.

Wu Jan barely had time to react before Wang Zhu's form shimmered, dissolving like mist under the morning sun. 

"Senior, wait–!" Wu Jan reached out. 

But she only grasped an empty air.

She stared helplessly at the spot where her senior had disappeared, a hollow ache blooming in her chest.