Han Yu stretched his back with a groan, his eyes sore from hours of reading ancient texts and studying maps that could probably give an architect a migraine.
The cave was quieter now, the faint flicker of the illumination talisman casting a dim glow over the ss that he had, by now, sowhat accepted as ho. He was about to move on to the history books stacked neatly on the shelf when sothing else caught his eye, a small box sitting unobtrusively in the corner.
He had noticed it before, but with everything else competing for his attention, he had simply ignored it. Now, however, as his gaze lingered on it, he realized that it stood out more than he first thought.
It was clean.
In this cave of carnage, where dried blood and rot seed to coat every surface like paint, the box looked completely untouched. Its wooden surface was smooth and dark, polished to a soft sheen. Even the faint layer of dust upon it seed almost deliberate, as if protecting it rather than defiling it.
Han Yu crouched and picked it up. It was light, smaller than he expected, fitting neatly into his hands. There was no sll of blood on it, no cracks, no stains. For a mont, he just turned it over, studying the object that had sohow escaped Ju Fan's madness.
"Well," Han Yu muttered, "you're either full of mystery or full of trouble."
He tilted the box slightly and then noticed faint red lines glowing across its surface.
A formation pattern. More specifically, a locking formation. Han Yu squinted, recognizing the intricate design of intertwining runes forming a circle around the latch. His eyes widened slightly as realization dawned.
"A bloodline seal," he whispered.
Now that was unexpected.
Bloodline seals were not common in ordinary sects. They were ancient, specialized formations that bound access to a specific bloodline. Even if soone managed to break through the Qi-based locking layer, the box would self-destruct the mont it detected foreign blood.
Whoever Ju Fan was, he had sothing worth protecting.
Han Yu sat cross-legged on the floor, the box placed carefully before him. His thoughts churned. Normally, sothing like this would be useless to him. He did not share Ju Fan's bloodline.
However, there was one complication: he had absorbed Ju Fan's corpse. More precisely, his essence, Qi, and perhaps even remnants of his spirit. The connection between them was far from ordinary.
It was faint, but perhaps…
He took out a small dagger and made a quick cut on his finger. A single drop of blood welled up and fell onto the box. The mont it touched the surface, the runic formation flared to life. Lines of red light spread across the wood like veins filling with liquid fla.
Han Yu tensed, half-expecting an explosion.
But instead of rejecting him, the formation circle pulsed, absorbed the blood, and glowed with a steady crimson light before fading.
CLICK
With a soft click, the box unlocked.
Han Yu stared, slightly stunned. "Well… I guess that confirms it," he muttered. "Absorbing soone really does blur a few lines."
Carefully, he lifted the lid. Inside were neatly stacked letters, bundled together with a thin red cord. Unlike the chaos of the rest of the cave, these letters were arranged with almost loving care. The parchnt was slightly yellowed but clean, untouched by blood or decay.
It was strange. From everything Han Yu had seen so far, Ju Fan had been a reckless, possibly deranged man who thought hygiene was optional and blood was interior design. Yet these letters told a different story.
Han Yu lifted the first one and unfolded it. The handwriting was elegant, the strokes flowing gently across the page. The letter was addressed to Ju Fan, signed at the bottom with the na Ju Qingge.
The surna rang familiar, though Han Yu could not identify the person. Reading further, he realized why.
Ju Qingge was Ju Fan's mother.
The letter was written with warmth, though tinged with sorrow. She asked him how he had been, whether he was eating well, whether he still practiced diligently. She ntioned that it had been years since his last reply.
Her words pleaded gently, asking if he was still angry after all these years.
Han Yu sat in silence, rereading the letter twice.
'So Ju Fan had a family who cared for him.'
He had a mother who worried for him and wrote constantly despite his silence. It painted the man in a very different light.
He placed the first letter aside and picked up another. This one was rather old, the handwriting a little shakier but still graceful. The ssage was much the sa. She had written that she had sent multiple letters but never received a response. She hoped he was well, that his cultivation was progressing, that the sect treated him kindly.
The following letters told a slow story of ti passing.
Each one ca months apart, then years. The tone of the letters grew sadder, the worry more apparent. She ntioned the state of their clan, spoke of cousins and uncles Han Yu had never heard of, and occasionally referred to an ongoing dispute within the family.
By the fifth letter, Han Yu's heart sank slightly.
Ju Qingge wrote that the elders of their branch were losing influence, that rival branches were growing stronger, and that the Ju Clan's alliances were shifting. She said she hoped Ju Fan would return ho, even if only for a short ti.
Han Yu sighed softly and leaned back, holding one of the letters up to the light. "So you did have a life before this," he said quietly. "You were not always… this."
He continued to read through the remaining letters. Nearly all were from Ju Fan's mother, though a few bore other nas; distant relatives, perhaps, writing at her request. Every single one spoke of longing, of soone who had gone too far into the sect's shadow and never looked back.
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