They moved on from the fallen Grayling ship, its warped remains shrinking behind them as the trees grew denser, the forest folding in like a quiet shroud. The air was heavy with the earthy scent of moss and old leaves, broken only by the sound of twigs snapping underfoot and the occasional rustle of unseen animals fleeing their path. Dican walked ahead, seemingly content, occasionally humming under his breath, but Bian trailed a few paces behind—silent and simmering.
His gaze stayed locked on the ground, but his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. The bitter taste hadn't left his mouth.
Jian was alive.
That knowledge was like gravel grinding under his teeth. When he'd arrived at the Wang estate, some part of him had hoped—no, expected—to hear confirmation of Jian's death. It would've been fitting. Clean. His annoying brother, gone. Out of his way. Leaving behind the path Bian could then claim entirely for himself.
But no. That roach was still alive. Kicking. Breathing. Living.
