But Vanguard Commander Lin Feng was one impenetrable fortress.

Ever since his shocking revelation in the lotus pavilion, the casual admission that he had used a forbidden way to send her soul to Earth, only for it to snap back, Ji’an had been obsessively trying to find out what "price" he had paid for the miracle.

She had tried everything.

She had tried the direct approach.

She had marched up to him in the training yards, slammed her hands on the weapons rack, and demanded, "Did you sell half your lifespan? Did you curse your karma? Tell me!"

Lin Feng had merely looked down at her, his silver-flecked eyes warm and unbothered, and replied, "Your stance is too wide, little bird. It leaves your center of gravity exposed. Pivot your back foot."

She then tried the subtle approach.

After brewing him a cup of spirit-tea designed to lower a cultivator’s mental defenses, she was hoping to coax the truth out of him while he was relaxed.

Lin Feng had drunk the tea, smiled a calm, devastatingly handsome smile, and said, "This chamomile blend is exquisite. Your skills have truly reached the pinnacle. I am so proud of you, Ji’an."

He then patted her on the head and walked away, leaving her grinding her teeth in frustration.

And finally, out of desperation, she had resorted to squabbling.

She had reverted to the petty, annoying, and chaotic sibling tactics that usually broke a person’s composure.

She was used to Xiao Yichen.

The Second Prince was a sociopath, yes, but he was a highly reactive sociopath.

If Ji’an insulted, mocked his outfits, or threatened him with a spatula, the Prince would react like a feral, stray cat.

He would hiss, his eyes would darken with malice, and he would threaten to murder someone.

He was dangerous, but his reactions were predictable.

You poked the cat, and the cat scratched you.

Lin Feng, however, didn’t even scratch.

One afternoon, needing a break from packing and Su Yin’s relentless clinging, Ji’an found herself walking through the estate’s expansive, meticulously manicured bamboo gardens.

As fate, or perhaps the competent stalking abilities, would have it, she stumbled upon Lin Feng.

He was sitting alone at a small stone table beneath the bamboo canopy, casually polishing the black spirit-iron shaft of his legendary halberd, the Azure Dragon’s Fang.

He wore a simple, dark blue tunic that stretched taut across his broad shoulders.

Without the heavy armor, he looked less like a War God and more like a rugged, devastatingly attractive rogue martial artist.

Ji’an stopped on the pebble path, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing into a competitive glare.

’I’m going to break him,’ Ji’an resolved, a stubborn, childish determination flaring in her chest. ’I’m going to make him lose that stoic, annoyingly perfect composure, and when he snaps, he’ll definitely tell me what he sacrificed for my soul.’

She marched off the path, stepping into the shade of the bamboo.

"Eldest Brother," Ji’an drawled, her voice dripping with the attitude of an insufferable young master’s arrogance.

She didn’t ask for permission to sit; she dropped onto the stone bench opposite him, propping her boots up onto the edge of his chair, invading his space entirely.

Lin Feng did not pause his polishing.

He merely glanced up, his dark eyes crinkling slightly at the corners with quiet amusement.

"Good afternoon, Ji’an. Is the packing proceeding smoothly, or has that girl Su Yin finally succeeded in driving you to madness?" he asked, his deep baritone rumbling pleasantly in the quiet garden.

"Su Yin is an amateur," Ji’an scoffed, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I’m more agitated by the fact that the Vanguard Commander of the Azure Empire is behaving like a clam with a superiority complex. You are hiding things from me, Brother Feng. Things that are important to me."

"I’m polishing my halberd," Lin Feng corrected smoothly. "You see, Ji’an, it requires regular maintenance to prevent the iron from tarnishing."

"Stop deflecting my words!" Ji’an snapped, kicking the leg of his chair with her boot. "I’m not a child anymore! I’m now a Sovereign Elder! I have survived harsh dungeons and training! I have a right to know what you did back then to save me! Or at least give me a hint if something is preventing you from telling me!"

Lin Feng set the polishing cloth down.

He rested his large, scarred hands on the table, leaning forward slightly to match her posture.

He didn’t get angry.

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t even offer a dramatic threat.

Instead, Lin Feng looked at her.

He looked at the fierce, blazing frustration in her silver-flecked eyes.

He looked at the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her dark hair had fallen out of its neat bun in her agitation.

And then, he smiled.

It wasn’t a smirk.

It wasn’t a polite curve of the lips.

It was a smile of sincerity that felt like a physical blow to Ji’an’s chest.

It was a smile that carried the weight of ten years of frozen, muddy trenches, the agony of desperate prayers, and the joy of having his prayer answered.

"You are so vibrant now, little sister," Lin Feng murmured, his voice incredibly soft, carrying a heavy, suffocating tenderness that made Ji’an’s breath catch in her throat. "Every time you yell at me, every time you glare at me... it is a reminder that you are alive. That you are here. That the fire in your soul did not go out."

Ji’an froze.

The aggressive, interrogative momentum she had built up was completely, instantly derailed.

He reached across the table.

His large, warm hand cupped the side of her face.

His thumb gently brushed across her cheekbone.

"I would pay the price a thousand times over if I need to," Lin Feng whispered, his dark eyes locking onto hers with sincerity that completely paralyzed her.

"Did you know, Ji’an? I made a promise."