Han Yu glanced sideways at Meng Jueyan.
"Is there anything I can do? Even if small?"
Han Yu gave a soft grunt—amused, skeptical.
"Do you think this is a mission of merit?" he asked. "That you'll be rewarded with fortune or glory?"
Meng blinked, unsure how to answer.
Han Yu didn't wait.
"There is no reward. No spirit stones. No contributions. This is not the work of sect disciples looking to climb ranks. This is the work of keeping something rotten from spreading. And that… often leaves nothing behind."
In reality it was Han Yu who couldn't afford to reward her anything, so he was just saving his ass.
A gust of wind moved between them.
Meng didn't flinch. "Even so. I wish to help. I'm willing to accept that."
Han Yu was silent for a moment.
Then: "Good."
The single word hung in the air like a seal of approval. A contract without blood, yet heavier than iron.
He walked to the edge of the clearing, gazing into the forest beyond.
"I'll contact you when needed," he said.
