The morning light of the Red Desert was like a red-hot iron, slowly searing away the night mist.
Jin had been carrying Xue Yin for several hours.
His left shoulder had been grazed by falling rocks during the mine collapse, and now every step felt like shards of glass grinding into his flesh.
His right hand remained steady as it supported the back of her knees, while his left hand rested on the dagger at his waist—not to guard against her, but against this gods-forsaken desert.
The person on his back was light.
She was much lighter than he had imagined.
Her silver hair hung beside his neck, smelling of dust yet inexplicably clean.
Every breath she took brushed against the back of his neck, warm and faint, like the last drop of dew in the desert.
What made him even more rigid was the soft sensation of her pressed against his back through the coarse hemp fabric, rising and falling slightly with his stride.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he forced himself not to think about it, focusing instead on keeping his pace steady, afraid of jarring her.
He suddenly remembered the previous night.
She had crouched by the fire, soaking a cloth in warm water to wipe the grime from his arm bit by bit.
At the time, he had said, “You don’t have to do this.
” She hadn’t even looked up as she replied, “You’re my apprentice, not a beast of burden.”
When she had performed the purification on him, her magic flowed like a thin stream, showing a level of precise control as it bypassed his seal that would have caused a backlash with the slightest slip.
In battle, her magic light was like a roaring flame, yet when she collapsed, her eyelashes hadn’t even trembled.
She was so powerful she didn’t seem human, yet so fragile that she seemed too human.
Even though she was clearly exhausted, she had insisted on healing him first.
Just then, a rustling sound echoed from the bottom of a sand dune.
It wasn’t the wind.
It was a swarm of Bone-Eating Scorpions—each the size of a human arm, with purple shells and neurotoxic stingers.
They had caught the scent of magic residue, the lingering aura on her clothes now that her power was depleted.
Jin slowly lowered Xue Yin, leaning her against the shaded side of a wind-eroded rock.
His movements were extremely gentle, as if he were afraid of disturbing a fragile dream.
The physical strength he had left was only enough to cast a single Fireball.
However, fire would alert more monsters, and smoke would expose their location—the people from the Red Scorpion Chamber might still be digging through the ruins of the mine.
He drew his dagger, bit his finger, and smeared blood along the blade.
Blood could briefly confuse the swarm, but it would only buy him a few breaths of time.
He lowered his body like a wolf guarding its cub, standing between Xue Yin and the scorpions.
The swarm approached tentatively, their purple shells dragging fine trails through the sand, their stingers held high like a forest of poisonous needles.
He held his breath, the tip of his blade trembling slightly.
‘When she stood in front of me, was this what she saw?’ So many eyes watching, yet she had stood at the front alone, never letting him face it.
‘When she stood between me and death, what was she thinking? Was she afraid?’
He didn’t dare think about it.
Behind him, she remained in a deep sleep.
In front of him were countless pairs of tiny eyes shimmering with purple light.
No one would ever know of this battle.
But if he died, she would certainly die as well.
So, he could not die.
Because someone was currently relying on him to live another second.
Because someone had once treated him like a human being.
The first scorpion lunged!
A flash of his blade sent a severed tail flying.
Rancid fluid splashed across his cheek, stinging like a burn.
A second and third scorpion flanked him from the sides.
He spun, his dagger sweeping out to slice through two more stingers.
A fourth took the opportunity to spring at his calf.
He lunged aside to dodge, but a gash was torn open, and beads of blood seeped out.
The swarm immediately became restless, their assault growing more ferocious.
He gritted his teeth and endured, one strike after another, every swing drawing blood.
But the swarm was endless, crawling out from under the sand and surging from rock crevices.
They did not fear death; they knew only hunger.
Another gash opened on his arm, and his thigh was pierced—the wound wasn’t deep, but a wave of coldness began to crawl up his veins.
He knew the paralysis would soon set in, and then he would have to watch helplessly as they crawled toward her.
“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath, retreating into a dead end against the rock wall, his back pressed against the cold stone.
A Fireball? If he used it, they were exposed.
But if this continued, he wouldn’t last more than a few breaths.
Just as he was reaching the brink of despair, he caught a glimpse of the leather pouch at Xue Yin’s waist bulging slightly.
It was a small bag of grayish-brown powder she had refined last night—Masking Powder.
He reached out abruptly, tore the pouch away, and threw a handful at the swarm!
The moment the powder hit the air, a pungent odor rose.
The swarm immediately scattered in confusion, burrowing back under the sand one after another.
The sound of shells rubbing together receded like a tide.
Jin collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air, his hands shaking so much he could barely hold his dagger.
He looked down at Xue Yin—her brow was slightly furrowed as if she sensed the danger in her dreams, yet she ultimately failed to wake.
“Master…” he chuckled bitterly.
“Even while unconscious, you’re still helping me.”
The scorpions had retreated, but the danger was far from over.
He tore off a piece of his clothing and performed a basic bandage on the wounds on his arm and leg.
The toxin was still spreading, and he was already losing sensation in his right leg.
Even worse, the temperature difference between day and night in the Red Desert was extreme.
Now that the sun was setting, the temperature was plummeting; the night cold was enough to crack rocks.
He hesitated for a moment before finally pulling her gently into his arms, using the remaining warmth of his body to shield her from the wind.
She was so light.
So light it made his heart race with anxiety.
It felt as if she might scatter in the wind if he wasn’t careful.
Jin leaned against the rock, his eyelids heavy.
The shoulder injury, the arm wound, dehydration, hunger, the toxin… every inch of him was screaming at him to give up.
But he didn’t dare sleep.
He kept his eyes closed while his ears remained sharp, listening to the wind, the sand, and her faint breathing.
As long as that breathing continued, he could keep going.
In his daze, a thought flashed through his mind.
The Red Scorpion Chamber was offering a high bounty for the capture of a Magic Girl.
Combined with her High Elf bloodline, it would be enough to buy him a boat ticket to the Southern Realm of the Human World, allowing him to disappear and live a life free of want.
He could even imagine himself standing on the pier, the sea breeze washing away the scent of blood.
All he had to do was stop now, find the master-disciple contract on Xue Yin’s person, and tear it up.
Then, he just had to hand this burden over to the Red Scorpion Chamber… No.
He snapped his eyes open and shook his head, as if trying to fling the thought out of his mind.
She was not cargo to be traded for a boat ticket.
When she purified him, she could have ignored his seal, yet she chose the harder path.
She could have left him to fend for himself, yet she took in this “burden” covered in wounds.
When she had rushed toward the collapse runes, she hadn’t shouted for him to run; she had screamed, “Jin—!!” There had been no command in that cry, only entrustment.
She could have questioned him about his seal, yet she only said, “Everyone has things they don’t want to talk about.”
In this world, she was the first person to ever treat him like a human.
He looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms and suddenly smiled.
“Master…” His voice was as low as a sigh.
“Do you have any idea? You’re actually making someone like me want to be a good person.”
He gripped the edge of her clothes tightly, wrapping her up well, then continued to keep his ears sharp, listening to the wind, the sand, and her breathing.
He didn’t know how much time passed…
A cold hand gently grabbed the edge of his sleeve.
It was so light and weak that he almost thought it was a hallucination.
But he snapped his eyes open.
Xue Yin’s eyes remained closed, her lips were chapped, and her eyelashes trembled slightly, as if she were struggling to crawl back to the world of the living from the edge of an abyss.
Yet that hand stubbornly gripped him, refusing to let go.
Jin looked down at that hand and stared for a long time.
It was so light, yet so heavy—heavy enough to make him forget the injury to his shoulder, the toxin in his leg, and even the entire world.
Then, he placed his own hand over hers, holding it gently.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice as low as a vow.
“Master.”
The wind and sand swept past their figures.
Above the dunes, only their heartbeats and breathing remained, intertwining into a song amidst the silence.
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